Switchblade. Slick. snick,
click. click.
shades of blue, slaughter on 10th avenue.
O'Hara on the lampost,
hanging on,
The times blowin in the wind.
50's cool, the coolest cool
there ever was.
switchblade, click, snick
oiled and greased.
4th floor on the fire escape,
her blouse opened just a bit too far,
O'Hara on the street below
with an envelope,
she wonders who he was.
That man she saw,
cigarette glowing in the dark.
She turns the fan her way,
and wipes some sweat away,
the ancient siren wails in the distance,
the steam rises through the laundry
hanging in the canyons
as the naked city sleeps.
Part 2 On The Avenue
Frank didn't worry much
about the things he knew.
He was always looking for something new.
Watching the painters paint
the bricklayers in abstract hue.
Tapping his fingers to the tunes of the city,
he'd say, looking down the lane,
Don't worry about what I said, kid,
just be you.
He was a lot like Whitman
in that way.
Wingtips, pink and white,
Elvis on the midnight train
to New Orleans.
O'Hara with the blues,
writing on the napkins
'bout the words
he knew.
I am looking for that quiet tone
to make the desperation white.
Something to clear the perspiration's
turgid tripe,
maybe find a place of my own on the avenue.
Part 3 –I’ll change For You
The scratched back sound of the radio
The whir of the fan.
The voices of the junkies down below
the children running in the hall.
Mrs. Ball moaning loudly once again.
The Dream Escaping.
The way it goes.
"I'll change for you" he said.
"Put the blade down,
just put the blade down."
"I'll change for you," he said.
"just words", Frank said,
and sighs
closing the mail box door,
letting it flip up with a satisfying bang,
lighting another cigarette.
slick. click,
"I'll change for you," he said,
stumbling on the words.
slick click slide sigh.
"I'll change for you," he said.
Frank reaches for another napkin.
Author notes
An imaginary event in the Life of the poet Frank O'hara.
Written October 2nd, 2003
In a list
A contest entry
- Write me a Poem about History {{Editted to Allow Pre-Writes}} by SpydurPoet.
705 points, ended August 19, 2007, 27 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 18 of 18
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This was a really interesting piece. The only thing is, the rules state that you must put the event in the Author's Notes. There is still time left to do it, please do so. You can remove it after the contest has ended.
Thanks for your entry!
Write on.
~*~SP~*~
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I have only seen pieces of Westside Story
I am embarrassed to admit (Though I did drive for Westside Transport). I wish I had seen (or read) it all so that I could completely understand your allusions. I knew it would be well written as soon as I saw you were the author, and I was not disappointed. 
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This is fantastic, I too found myself humming and snapping the fingers, great job~
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Apartment hunting.
Sometimes I wonder who he was too. Walking down the street with his broken leg he got in a fight with another guy. And how he smoked another cigarette to get to me.
Was it worth his walk to me? Over time his leg healed but he walked with that desperate limp. Nothing could keep him from me. Not even his lived in and failed relationship with my sister that goes on and on like a battery in a bunny.
We all have a West Side Story to tell. In between the hot moments the smoking breaks were taken. At least for him but he never gave me pause to smoke one of my cigars. That would have taken too much of the time it took for him to sneak around and play.
I am going to miss his crooked and boyish smile. He broke his jaw once too acting the silly on a child's bicycle. Almost everything he had got broken once. If I had stayed any longer with him I would have been broken too.
Reading your poem brings all these memories back to me.
That time in my life is no longer a place I want to live. I try to move on but I keep in my luggage parts of him. I move his trunk from place to place but never fully empty it out anymore. Some things are best stored away. -
Very well done, my friend! It's unique and that makes for excellent poetry! Bravo and kudos to you!
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That's what i liked too - the musical quality with the clicks, and snips and sighs, whirs etc - just like listening to the musical - LOL. Not quite!
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Hi, a fun write, it move at the speed of a runaway train,lol. good fun to read,I notice others like it as well how about trying Casablanca a the next? I am sure you would do a great job on that as well, all the best,Di
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To be honest, this just seems like words to me. It seems only fair to comment, but there isn't really enough of a structure for me to enjoy this.
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really good write... il ike the first verse the most.. really brilliant... and has a really musically feeling as well... very rhythmic. well done
a wonderful piece of writing
jess -
This is a great story write,and a great piece as well.the story is mysterious and interesting.great job and GOD BLESS.
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very clever my friend I loved the style of your writing
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Back already.
I read it backward .. to see if I could put it together better. I'm slow you know. Always amazed at how other people figure things out so quickly.
The mailbox and the envelope made me do that. Well, it's hard to change for "you" .. usually resentment follows. Acceptance and appreciate are most important I think. Oh but that is more philospho-whatever.
I'm confused by the "she made me promise not to tell .." lines. -
i wanted to snap and sing when i started reading. and i saw and heard it all happening right before my eyes while i was reading it. the laundry steam, the siren howl, the people their clothes, the writing on a napkin. its got tea leaves. and the pastoral i re-read right before this had bruised lips again. i like that - finding a little picture - a familiarity in different poems by the same writer. helps connect reader to author i think - or at least in the readers mind. i see it alot since i've been reading so many different authors complete works. anyway, love this:
I am looking for that quiet tone
to make the desperation white.
and the scratchy radio thing. actually i really really like this. it seems it was at one time a few poems and then you put them together. maybe.
morning.
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I think I read this before... hmmmmmmmmm..snick click familiar sound... Val
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Well it's one of my fav films.. so the title hooked and so DID the poem.. Brilliant..
~GILL~xxx -
I was thinking the same thing as neurosine on the used and new line. This was an interesting little story and you intertwined them together nicely. Images of the streets of NY in the 50's are vivid, perhaps the title helped a bit but you have managed to tell a long story in very few words. Excellent write here, enjoyed.
Desiree
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These three pieces seem to be tenuously interrelated. So I'll have to read it again. They've all got a gritty fifties detective novel feel to them. I once met a man working at Bass shoe factory in Wilton, Maine who claimed to be Walt Whitman. I suspect it wasn't him though. The only suggeation I have is a small one.
O'Hara with the blues,
writing on the napkins
'bout the words
both used and new.
I think 'both new and used' would fit better into the rhyme scheme.
Otherwise all chances are it's perfect. -
Oh wow... i adore this! You are so versatile in your writing, when i open a poem, i never know where you're going to take me... this is really exceptional!
~ Wendy
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