Sometimes I think
About Frank O’Hara,
But most of the time
I think about paying
The bills. I find myself
Saying c’est la guerre
Against my will;
I say it to my mother
Even though she doesn’t
Know the expression;
I pass a particularly
Leafless tree and,
Boom, c’est la guerre.
Debt frees me
To be an incorrigible
Asshole whenever
I want. I want to be
An incorrigible asshole
More than I would like
To admit. Because
I don’t like to admit
This, I think of Frank
O’Hara and the way
He almost made
It through his whole
Life without using
Cherry blossoms
In a poem,
But couldn’t
Prevent himself.
This makes me feel
Better. It makes
Me think that
Numbers are just
People trapped
In the rain without
Umbrellas – that,
Though I fear them,
I should let them in.
I am climbing
A large hill.
I see a granite throne,
Sit on it,
Call to my subjects,
Touch the globe
Of my sceptre to
My crown,
Order the execution.
Alas, how hard
It is to rule
The world.
I stand up,
Jump on a passing
Hay ride and doff my cap
To the wind.
To the ever-parting wind.
DAN CHELOTTI