The toaster is toast

Last year I posted about the ambitious prose accompanying my Toastmaster Toaster. Apparently the words were all the thing had going for it, since the thing stopped working without warning a month ago. Last week I finally got my hands on its replacement (with help from Alex, who drove me to the UPS depot). This time I invested a little more cash with hopes that I'd get a longer-lasting bread-crisping companion. I selected the KitchenAid KMTT200 (how's that for a catchy name?), in plain ol' silver. It's downright classy, if not as posh as my parent's KitchenAid PRO LINE Series toaster. It certainly recalls for me William Jay Smith's wonderful little poem "The Toaster":

A silver-scaled dragon with jaws flaming red
Sits at my elbow and toasts my bread.
I hand him fat slices, and then, one by one,
He hands them back when he sees they are done.

This was one of a score of poems I memorized in Mrs. Tobler's second grade class. It's one of the few that has stuck with me totally intact.