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Seven Haimkus and One Bobbe Myse

Haim Frumkin is the author of several brilliant forthcoming masterpieces. Aggressively attractive and scintillatingly subversive, he is loosely-renowned as a pioneer of Judeo-Japanese-erotic poetry, and as a fount of contra-capitalist wisdom. He enjoys the simple things in life, like cocktails, walks on the beach, and Jacques Derrida.

 

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Candles. Wine bar. You

ask: What’s your ideal bagel?

It’s baygel. Date over.

 

From Vilna mit love.

Art. Sheer art.  Why is Yiddish

porn under-rated?

 

Recolouring my

Trotsky tattoo. The world feels

more just already.

 

Caressing. Your back.

Each glimpse, a dream. Wafts of joy.

Its Grundrisse night.

 

Mid-Birthright, I ask:

When will we see Buber’s grave?

Silence. We flirt on.

 

Breakfast. Maoist

omelette. Nine broken eggs. Pinch

of disappointment.

 

Re-watching Fiddler.

Depressing. Capitalist

apologia with songs.

 

 

 

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Barbara is by most measures the best-looking girl in my Introduction to Critical Theory module. Everything she does is beyond perfect. Convinced she will be the mother of my children, I approach post-lecture to engage her in exhilarating conversation.

 

After the small talk, we get to the big talk:

 

“Who’s your favourite thinker?” I ask.

“What a question! I really don’t know…it’d have to be…Edmund Burke”, she replies.

 

Oh no. Why must it always come to this? Socialism or Barbara?

 

 

 

 

 

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