Beijing Taxi

The morning it happened
I was in my bed
The Sun shone on my face
My skin was red
My mouth was dry
Just like a napkin
My bed was wet
From the night before

I poured myself
A cold glass of water
It tasted like a pair of jeans
So I went to the kitchen to refill my cup
Opened up the fridge
I couldn’t find anything

But a lonesome slice of fresh white bread
It felt like a sign
Felt like that bread was mine
I put the bread in the toaster
I pushed the button and watched the walls of the toaster

Begin to glow like the fires in the fields Verdun in world war one
Felt like I was standing there in south west France 1914 with my hands on my gun
Bodies lying on the ground my neighbour’s house it had burned down
And all that remained
Was a toaster

I opened my eyes and the red Sun now shone black with smoke
No switch was functional and no appliance was worked in my favour
I was worried my neighbours had awoken through a war they had no part in
I rushed into the tree to sink a cone of wax
As so I could peer into the metal box I’d practically installed on the ceiling
Just inches from my peripheral view
I used a wooden chair to stand upon
I was shocked when I noticed
I’d shrunk to the size of a penny

And they glowed like the fires in the fields of the dune in world war one
Felt like I was standing there in south west France 1914 with my hands on my gun
Bodies lying on the ground, my neighbour’s house it had burned down and all that remained was a toaster

All that remained
Was a toaster
All that remained x5
Was a toaster