Number Nineteen of Frank O’Hara’s Lost Lunch Poems from 1961

 

This is just to say

sitting on a bench alone in

your lunch hour is not a problem

necessarily speaking.

Think of it like writing a novel

in a public place or riding your bicycle

through the thoroughfare past bus stops

or even through the train terminal.

I dare say a soul rarely notices

such behavior and if they do

it is of little concern to the rest of

the universe as it continues to swirl.

Take a guess at the hour you will

end up with me at the corner

dive with a smirk on your face

since the martinis they serve there are cold.

Then we will both laugh at the

simplicity of enjoying a drink with good friends

while the wind blows itself out

like tiny candle flames all over the city.

The sun then pulls his space

over his yawning head and the earth

quiets himself to lie down on the grass

and the sky is ready for bed.

Ah, you and I will continue to drink our

debauchery with the fervor of young teens

and relive our youth like all the poets

and artists and lovers before would want us to.

This is just to say

sitting on a bench alone in

your lunch hour is not a problem

necessarily speaking,

I like my peace and quiet as well.