This week’s question is really a no-brainer for me. If I could have met/known/worked with any dead American poet, it would be Frank O’Hara—partly because I think he knew how to party, and partly because I find his work to be both brash and disarming in ways that more “constructed” poems aren’t able. Of course, the real trouble with Frank was if you dated him. You immediately received an expiration date, unless you’re a Bill Berkson or a Vincent Warren. I’m more of a Bill Berkson type myself (I’m not so Eastern European looking). If I could go back I would want to be a crossing guard on Fire Island. Maybe just for a day.