I Am My Own Self
Not another mantra, Martha!
Like Frank O’Hara, “Never
argue with the movies,”
George.
Gorgeous Sunday
afternoon. Why don’t we
go out and play? After all,
the opera doesn’t begin ’til
three and we’ve got nothing
but time on our hands.
So he refuses to wash his
hands for several seasons.
In I come, all happy to be,
happy to be. I was waiting
in line for a hot dog, taking
it all out on him. “Penetra-
tion mi amor!” Then it’s
back to his place for a nap
while he does laundry.
And what a nice nap it is!
Later that same yesterday,
I head west, feeling fresh,
happy, myself. The breeze
as I pass Starbucks on
New Montgomery.
The chill as I approach
the tunnel that ducks
beneath
Treasure Island.
