You do not always know what I am feeling.
Last night in the warm spring air while I was
blazing my tirade against someone who doesn’t
interest
me, it was love for you that set me
afire,
and isn’t it odd? for in rooms full of
strangers my most tender feelings
writhe and
bear the fruit of screaming. Put out your hand,
isn’t there
an ashtray, suddenly, there? beside
the bed? And someone you love enters the room
and says wouldn’t
you like the eggs a little
different today?
And when they arrive they are
just plain scrambled eggs and the warm weather
is holding.
- Frank O’Hara
Nice! I heart F O’H and have Lunch Poems sitting at my desk at work.
aww, you shouldn’t have!
beautiful poem. I’ll have to read more Frank O”Hara. Thanks.
oh, i’m reading kids right now, and i’m trying so hard to slow down now that i’m near the end. one so it won’t end, and two so i won’t bawl my eyes out! thanks for this post!
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