My favorite type of poems. You dont know why you are reading, but you keep reading, and it builds, like a love affair you are not sure you should keep pursuing, but you do, and it builds, and sometimes the lines are blurry, and you dont understand a few words or why his eyes looked at you like that, and you keep going, and the kisses keep coming and your body is full of light, and the light hits the screen and you read some more, possibly even not breathing right, the way he crushed you in sleep and forgetfullness and you are still reading, in the shadowy dusk of an afternoon in an office, where there is too much laughter and yet you are cold. And the last line tells you why you did all this, and you can stop.

Frank O’Hara
STEPS

How funny you are today New York
like Ginger Rogers in Swingtime
and St. Bridget’s steeple leaning a little to the left

here I have just jumped out of a bed full of V-days
(I got tired of D-days) and blue you there still
accepts me foolish and free
all I want is a room up there
and you in it
and even the traffic halt so thick is a way
for people to rub up against each other
and when their surgical appliances lock
they stay together
for the rest of the day (what a day)
I go by to check a slide and I say
that painting’s not so blue

where’s Lana Turner
she’s out eating
and Garbo’s backstage at the Met
everyone’s taking their coat off
so they can show a rib-cage to the rib-watchers
and the park’s full of dancers with their tights and shoes
in little bags
who are often mistaken for worker-outers at the West Side Y
why not
the Pittsburgh Pirates shout because they won
and in a sense we’re all winning
we’re alive

the apartment was vacated by a gay couple
who moved to the country for fun
they moved a day too soon
even the stabbings are helping the population explosion
though in the wrong country
and all those liars have left the UN
the Seagram Building’s no longer rivalled in interest
not that we need liquor (we just like it)

and the little box is out on the sidewalk
next to the delicatessen
so the old man can sit on it and drink beer
and get knocked off it by his wife later in the day
while the sun is still shining

oh god it’s wonderful
to get out of bed
and drink too much coffee
and smoke too many cigarettes
and love you so much