Odysseus in a Land of Toaster Ovens
So many crumbs, so little time,
I feel the red glow of the filaments
in my own chest
like English muffins in apprenticeship
Warm and Warmer.
They have suckled a generation
those who have never known the
exasperation of a pop-up toaster.
In my memory bank, long ago,
I remember when the spring recoiled
in some far-off mechanical dream
with these toaster ovens, there is
no pushing down, only the laying on
of butter and jam as the racks warm
those who sun themselves on grills.
How I miss
the long accruing toaster with its
instead, a world of the horizontal
has overtaken us.
We can only stack them high with
little thought. O forgive us!