tune your head to fantasy
who you are is not
who you must be
myriad ways to interpret
the signals and inputs of your existence
does the toast only happen
to pop up out of the toaster
at ten minutes past eight
or might it be
a coded message
sent via a super secret agent
or maybe it’s a test
devised by the NSA
bread, toasted
white to brown
the presidency has gone too
white to brown
eight, ten
nine, eleven
what a coincidence of weird significance
o, the places you’ll go
if you let your mind slide open wide
and follow it down the old rabbit hole
fast into the jaws of the awaiting snake


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