I wanted to write something about toast
but I’ve got nothing to say about toast.
Maybe I could talk about making a toast.

I did that once at a wedding.
It was pretty traumatic.
I don’t think I want to talk about making a toast.

I could talk about making toast.
That seems an easier topic to broach.
My toaster-oven tends to overheat
and makes things toastier
than necessary.
I get burnt bread more than I’d like,
which is never.

This topic seems to have run its course.

I could discuss eating toast,
which really should have been the first place
I’d have thought of going.
Damn it, brain!
Why do you make it so hard on yourself?

When my mummy, no dummy
would make me cinnamon toast,
with the butter and the bread
and the cinnamon and the sugar
and the heat and the love,
it worked out better than anything I could do.
She’s the cook in the family.

I like toast.

Yeah, I think I got it.