Poem: Too Much Was Spent

Too Much Was Spent
 
on more and more
that was not enough,
on bright and gleaming,
on rainbow light,
on what could be seen
or was not seen
in a particular way,
on taking away darkness,
and on toasters with digital dials
that popped up 
with that same precise cheer
each time they ejected
there precisely charred contents,
but more was spent on air,
on just the right air,
the kind that could carry
even the faintest scent
of just browning bread.

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