I’m feeling especially generous today, so here’s a prose poem to sink your teeth into. Enjoy!
Don’t twiddle the dials. They’re already set. I set them. I like them that way. It’s the best way. Loaf’s on the counter. Don’t leave it open. I hate stale bread. You always leave it open. When you buy your own bread, you’ll understand. Drop it in the toaster. Two pieces? Fine. Don’t forget the bread bag. Pour your juice while it toasts. Close that fridge. You always leave the fridge open. When you pay for your own electricity you’ll understand. The toast popped. Toaster’s hot! I always told you haste makes waste. Slather butter. Not too much. Don’t get crumbs in the butter. I like my toast crust less and my butter crumb less. You’re going to eat the crust? Give me a bite. Just a bite. I would share toast with you. Butter goes in the fridge. Put the bread away. What did I tell you about leaving the bag open? You might like your bread stale, but as long as I put bread on the counter, it stays closed. You don’t get it. When you buy your own bread, you’ll understand.