By A.B. Samien
I like opening the refrigerator
in the middle of the night,
in the dark,
without a shirt on.
Navel even with that third shelf, I feel like a god
selecting foodstuff worthy for my consumption.
I reach my naked arm into the fridge,
pour myself a glass of milk,
thump my chest like the hairy ape-god,
spoiled, over-privileged American I am,
and go back to bed.
