Kathy Toast

A pot-bellied man entered loudly,
normally cut in half.

Actually, rectangles of stinky computer dreams
chewed me and another person…

He chewed the room,
the restaurant, the manicured lawns.

I saw a guest enjoy it,
slathered in bar sunlight.

We received
a hinged present.

The party is over.

I mumble, remembering most of the lines,
and selling apparently not much more
than the top of my head.

“Cut-up” text
1995

AI-generated imagery
2022