Upon Reading Frank O’Hara

upon reading frank
o’hara I found
myself waiting for
friends in an empty
bookstore
thinking about
how America would taste
if only
the senses
were so great?

red like strawberries?
white like vanilla?
or anglican churches?
blue like the pacific?
green like a ten–spot?
brown like a brunette?
perhaps black & white
like bogart?

upon reading frank
o'hara I thought
these thoughts
beside a fat
country woman
reading a
romance novel with a
delectible grin
wishing she were
alone
tasting her america
getting warmer
like a
rising flame.