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