As I await my toast,
I set a plate on the counter
and slide open the drawer
to retrieve a butter knife
and spoon.
I drop them, clanging,
onto the plate,
then open the refrigerator
and take out the butter
and the strawberry jelly.

I open the cabinet
and take out a glass,
then realize I need
the milk, so then
I open the refrigerator
and take out the milk,
remove the cap,
and pour a glass,

I put the lid back on
and place the milk
back in the refrigerator,
then I pull my chair back
from the kitchen table
and set my glass of cold milk
down on the table,
followed by the butter and jelly.

I keep my plate near
the toaster, so when the toast
pops out, hot and ready, I can transfer it
quickly to the plate, then I will
carry the plate to the table,
set it down, pick up the butter knife,
peel back the wrapper, and cut slices of butter
to plop on my toast.

After that, I will open the jelly jar, pick up my spoon,
and scoop out a bit of jelly to spread across the toast,
mixing it with the melting butter.

I’m still waiting for my toast, so I sit in the chair
and take a small sip of my milk.
I pick up the newspaper to scan a few headlines,
but I’m distracted thinking about my toast and
that damn toaster, which I paid fifty bucks for,
and I’m looking at the clock
and realizing if I don’t leave in about
five minutes I’ll be late for work,
and it wouldn’t be the first time this week.

I think about what my boss will say
if I am late, and I think about Spencer,
my cubicle neighbor, who will
have some smart ass remark to make
when I finally reach my desk,
after the boss is through with me.

I think about what a shitty day
this is turning out to be—already—
with the sun not even above
my bitchy neighbor’s fence yet.

I stand, thrusting my chair back
as I quickly straighten my legs
and turn, accusingly, to face
the toaster.

I walk over to the thing
and peer down, noting
the red-hot coils are doing their thing,
and then I realize, in that moment,
I forgot the bread.