"Bob's at Booth Four!"
Hostperson says, pointing to the booth by the kitchen.
One's friend Bob sits there reading the paper.
One takes this booth when there is nothing else available.
Not because One's friend Bob sits there
but because it is nearest the kitchen.
Booth Four at the
Original Pancake House has two seats.
One faces East and the
Other faces West.
When facing East, one faces the toaster and hence this seat is perceived as
not that desirable.
But from this vantage point
one is privileged however socially less desirable it may be
to see the toaster.
And this is
Not One's ordinary toaster,
But a grand, commercial toaster;
A perpetual toaster that revolves
Even when there is no bread about,
About to be turned into toast.
Once in a while
Waitperson comes by and
Or wheat into the toaster.
Being bread, and unable to extricate itself,
This veritable "staff of life"
Revolves and disappears into an unseen, unknown zone.
One can only guess but
It must be very hot.
One sitting at Booth Four facing East cannot necessarily feel the heat
One can see the results of the machine's miraculous act:
Of bread going in and toast coming out.
Toast flops out and lies there in the tray.
Waitperson enters stage right and
Whisks the toast away.
Time goes by.
The grand, commercial toaster
Continues it's methodical, inexorable wheeling:
Up, over. Up, over. Up, over.
One's friend "Bob," now speaks
Of the day's events.
One's eyes continue to drift and focus
On the grand toasting machine roiling and toiling:
Up, over. Up, over.
Once every six months or so
Original Pancake House loses power.
One would like to think the toaster continues.