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203 After Seeing the Hockney Retrospective in memory of Frank O’Hara So what about my job? Summer is coming and the rainbirds will sing sweet songs in the late afternoon. And somebody, probably in the Valley, will have a pool party where you can swim naked because most of the women will be like Hockney, pretty colorful and into the homoerotic. Oh, bless our toasters and our trees, bless all the curvy roads and spicy stucco. Let’s take down the wintered garlands of other people’s gardens and let the sprinklers flow again. Hockney is painting in beautiful Los Angeles. Already water is filling the pipes, already summer shirts anticipate us. ...

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