the toaster

you were married to your first wife
for nearly an hour
before you knew
that it would never work.
her mother lived across
the street and had stretched
a sheet of polyurethane
across her daughter's room
with hope that one day she would
return. she did six months
later leaving a simple note
saying, i'm sorry, but i'm
going home. she withdrew half your
savings, a thousand dollars,
then walked home with
a toaster and a mixer
under her arm. wedding
gifts. she then came back to get her
clothes and framed picture
of Jesus hanging over the bed.
she became catholic the next
month, and you received a
letter from the bishop annulling
your marriage. not long after
that she married the owner
of an Italian restaurant where
her mother was a hostess.
you were happy for her.
you were happy for you.
you missed the toaster though,
it had four slots and could
toast bagels.