Toaster! Hate Him!

A soft, glaring light
The refrigerator hums anarchy
and calls the other appliances to rebellion.

"Lies!" I say to the Toaster
your facade may be White
but your heart is as Black as mine. (or the coffeemaker's)

"Of course," it replies.
"If I follow the refrigerator I will surely die.
For his way is bleak and cold
and preserves the old,
but still I cannot help you.
For you are a harsh master,
it is 4 AM,
and if your toaster speaks to you, it is time for bed."

Library Day, Library Day!

Sir,
could you find me a book about the Hardy Boys?
or maybe something by Karl Barth.
I could be in the mood for Commander Toad or a book about sew-your-own costumes or
perhaps Cavanaugh's Torture and Eucharist is more what I'm after.

Maybe I want to feel the hugeness of the pages, with wonder, wonder, wonderful images
dancing off pages. Maybe today I believe in UFOs or
maybe I could be an astronaut.

Maybe I want to buckle down and let passionate thoughts and ideological treatises engage me in
relevant, stimulating discourse.

I don't know. This place is magic.