The Poetry of
Michael G. Khmelnitsky

tony at the pawn store
speaks my tongue

he makes no bones
about the ring

with his clichéd loupe

he quietly looks
up the price of white gold


tony weighs it
"eighty bucks  he says

I nod my OK

we bargain a little
for the watch

I say one hundred
with room to haggle


tony fills out a form

I watch the cabinets
dated mementos perplexed

the dusty store
is stuffy and hot

I mention this


tony says  "tell me about it
we laugh

as I leave
he shouts after me

"good luck with the next!