The Poetry of
Michael G. Khmelnitsky

I wake up in anticipation
of taking over
the bathroom

there is so
little
lebensraum left

there is so little
reason
to live left


on the bus
I read my pocket
introduction to

literary theory
  tries to tell me
where art starts

and a recipe
for soup
begins


downtown
I hunt down
a pair of gloves

(it's cashmere
the girl
tells me

I buy them
and a belt
and a gift for a friend


on a narrow
interminable street
I find books

they have nothing
I ask for
but I buy two anyway

the owner wraps my purchase
in discreet brown paper
and i feel furtive and tired


on the way
back  to my lemon
coloured

paradiso
christmas lights
appear to be

nothing but a white
rude metal corset
made of chickenwire