Frank O’Hara died at forty
and forty three years later
his final home was mowed down as well.
His East Village loft was is gone
like a sand castle on a Fire Island beach
washed away by morning tide.

Frank didn’t much believe in
landmarking buildings.
He believed in progress
though progress
is what brought him low
in the form of a war-born jeep.

Then, perhaps
would Frank be pleased
how now
across from Grace Church
there is little memory
of him.
a man
now dead
far longer
than he ever lived?