Yesterday I went to buy a toaster,
my old one died.
I had always bought the cheap kind
so it came as no surprise
that it bit the dust,
kaput, and gone forever.
In the space of twelve years
a cavalcade of toasters,
Cheap ones as said, for toast
I thought was hardly worth
a big one, stainless steel,
for browning slices of bread.
I rode the bus to Balgowlah,
walked down the hill.
This time, I thought, I might buy
a good one, to last me longer
well made, shining steel exterior,
to see me through my twilight years
though it was blazing hot traipsing down
to Harvey Norman’s and once there
I was salaaming for the airconditioning.
They have a way, our merchant lords,
they call them entrepreneurs
the kind of blokes our government adores,
bedazzling with their bright lights
and blasts of iced air
and so many benches of toasters,
toasters galore, that I bought one.
But another cheap one,
for what is toast but toast, and anyway,
I’ve never much liked Harvey Norman.