Somewhere on the Upper West Side
scrawled into the sidewalk
is a heart with the name Frank next to it.
There is no clear author.

Perhaps the writer did not want to be outed
for fear of the repercussions of vandalism
or having their delicate heart bruised
by Frank’s response.

Perhaps Frank is gay, and doesn’t want

the writer’s straight attention
or everything’s reversed: and hetero Francis
is weirded out by the gay writer’s attention.
Or even Ace Frances has to let the trans writer down
– not because the writer is trans
but because the asexual Fran doesn’t want anyone’s attraction at this time
and maybe never.

Maybe Frank just loves themself
or has an enlarged organ
and feels the need to inform the public.

So much to consider.
Luckily, we have all the time in the world
to review.