Toast II
the toast has been made
it's already done
350 degrees
five minutes
perfectly done
except, it wasn't
it wasn't made properly
there is no toaster
there hasn't been a toaster
for years now
i don't think about toast
i seldom eat breakfast now
so many things have changed
the bread has gone moldy
with each passing week
penicillin comes of mold
like a blooming hope
from total despair
sometimes i forget
what it's like to have a toaster
and when i return
to where the toaster lives
there is no more white bread
an air fryer has supplanted the toaststation
the ceramic dish is gone, replaced by a little plastic boat
i can't even afford butter
the dreams of toast are memories
what was i even going on about?
as my diet slowly degrades
into grits, ramen, milk and eggs
all the pain has long since gone
i've got bigger fish to fry
things have gotten better
but deep down still
you can't un-toast bread
things have changed.
my hair flows with a polished elegance
my voice becomes lighter, more agile
my form slowly melds into shape, despite not losing weight
and the hormones drift through my veins with each heartbeat
and as i read my old works, I wonder
why toast crossed my mind all that time
was the pain even real?
you can't un-toast bread
and maybe that's okay
there is no toast to eat
as i stare out of my window
holding an empty cup of coffee