like a sky that looks right back and says it's never seen rain.

one last thing, to tide you over for a while. more good words, not written by me, but since this is a blog about words and more than that, rambling, this seems perfect.

also I just like it.

so.

Having a Coke with You

by Frank O’Hara

is even more fun than going to San Sebastian, Irún, Hendaye, Biarritz,

     Bayonne

or being sick to my stomach on the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona

partly because in your orange shirt you look like a better happier

     St. Sebastian

partly because of my love for you, partly because of your love for

     yoghurt

partly because of the fluorescent orange tulips around the birches

partly because of the secrecy our smiles take on before people and

     statuary

it is hard to believe when I’m with you that there can be anything

     as still

as solemn as unpleasantly definitive as statuary when right in front

     of it

in the warm New York 4 o’clock light we are drifting back and forth

between each other like a tree breathing through its spectacles

and the portrait show seems to have no faces in it at all, just paint

you suddenly wonder why in the world anyone ever did them

I look

at you and I would rather look at you than all the portraits in

     the world

except possibly for the Polish Rider occasionally and anyway it’s

     in the Frick

which thank heavens you haven’t gone to yet so we can go together

     the first time

and the fact that you move so beautifully more or less takes care

     of Futurism

just as at home I never think of the Nude Descending a Staircase or

at a rehearsal a single drawing of Leonardo or Michelangelo that

     used to wow me

and what good does all the research of the Impressionists do them

when they never got the right person to stand near the tree when

     the sun sank

or for that matter Marino Marini when he didn’t pick the rider

     as carefully

as the horse

it seems they were all cheated of some marvelous experience

which is not going to go wasted on me which is why I am telling you

     about it

—

p.s. the title of this blog post is worth mentioning as well, because it is an example of such good words and metaphors, by The Weepies.