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More poems by Frank O'HaraFrank O'Hara | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments (3) | Books by Frank O'HaraBooks by Frank O'Hara

Call Me

Frank O'Hara

The eager note on my door said "Call me,"
call when you get in!" so I quickly threw
a few tangerines into my overnight bag,
straightened my eyelids and shoulders, and

headed straight for the door.  It was autumn
by the time I got around the corner, oh all
unwilling to be either pertinent or bemused, but
the leaves were brighter than grass on the sidewalk!

Funny, I thought, that the lights are on this late
and the hall door open; still up at this hour, a
champion jai-alai player like himself? Oh fie!
for shame!  What a host, so zealous!  And he was

there in the hall, flat on a sheet of blood that
ran down the stairs.  I did appreciate it.  There are few
hosts who so thoroughly prepare to greet a guest
only casually invited, and that several months ago.

Added: 24 Jun 2002 | Last Read: 17 Jul 2018 1:39 PM | Viewed: 9252 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/4910/ | Viewed on 17 July 2018.
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