Poem just for fun (after Frank O’Hara)

We are the Master of Things

Heather’s googling “kombucha baby”
when that weird guy C. comes over & goes,
your dress looks thick, a comment so surreal I cannot
jest in response & so I simply say, it is, it is. Thank goodness
Otis Redding’s on and crooning low, unlike that time with L. and R.
when loony cartoon background noises
honked our study tune. This is the night I learn I’m what they call a B.O.E.,
a Big Orange Eater, something I’ve always been but I guess
I just needed Heather to acronym-me & help to craft
a quick and slapdash rap about the way I’m stuck
with peels to put somewhere in my sticky-citrused state.

lalallalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala
Earlier
as we passed the neon Boulevard, I’d asked Heather
if what she needed was to cry
like old men for a while, because I can do that
& was already with a booming gruff,
and I think she probably meant to say, yes please,
yes please
, but all I remember is us laughing with so little sight
she might’ve missed a stop sign. Three times that I night I pee so fast
Heather swears I’m lying but of course I’m not,
and as I swig my cooling tea R. calls to talk
about a miscommunication over fucking with a friend.

The other R.’s not there tonight though I know that when
we do our entrance people-sweep it’s he that Heather eye-fishes for
among the rec-room tables. At 10:59 they kick us out
& without a J. or K. or L. to chat and goodbye with
we get straight into Labatt Blue: the name I’ve given Heather’s car since
what she calls it sounds too French and mine’s a beer from Canada. I can’t get in
without imagining her door-close move a month ago, a low side
hip-bump with a face so straight I thought I dreamt it and had to
re-perform it thrice for different friends.

lallalalalalalalallalalalallallalalalalNext
it’s off to Ralph’s for birthday bubbles
& a bee balloon that L. is sure to love tomorrow morning
and we almost buy some other things but don’t since Heather’s off to Paris soon
and I have all the food I need  inside my house
that I enter by the side-porch-door
as Heather scoots off to 7th where she’ll sleep beside some books
I gave her and some she came upon herself.

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