Toast

Boring toast, ordinary white bread toast nothing special, but, it was there... sometimes it was all that was there and it was a toy too slapped around with butter Sunbeam Bread child I was dropping slice after slice after slice of soft, bleached white, napkin bread into the gleaming silver toaster waiting for the "pop-up" moment when the toast was expelled abruptly into the air I remember eating toast all summer and mostly at night in my grandmother's kitchen until I became a little fat girl I drank coke from the bottle until my teeth were bucked Making toast was something to do and eating it was something to do, too. The porch swing creaked as I rocked it back and forth my legs swinging my mouth crunching toast My eyes looking out into the yard I wondered what was beyond the edge of the sky. and who would marry me one day.