For Grace, After A Party

You do not always know what I am feeling.

Last night in the warm spring air while I was

blazing my tirade against someone who doesn’t

interest

me, it was love for you that set me

afire,

and isn’t it odd? for in rooms full of

strangers my most tender feelings

writhe and

bear the fruit of screaming. Put out your hand,

isn’t there

an ashtray, suddenly, there? beside

the bed? And someone you love enters the room

and says wouldn’t

you like the eggs a little

different today?

And when they arrive they are

just plain scrambled eggs and the warm weather

is holding.

—

This is from The Selected Poems of Frank O’Hara, edited by Donald Allen, published by Vintage Books, 1974.

I have also dug up a few more from the archives, so  here you go .