Sitting On Flowers
I’ve buttered my toast again
though butter is bad, fluttering in saturated fat
because silly names make me fly
like a butterfly irrelevant on honey toast
There is some memory in toasted bread with marmalade
that once was served on a family outing
as if this treat were meant to taste like a love
too difficult to speak, an indoor substitute for
the flights of the bumble bee and the butterfly
because humans are too heavy to sit on flowers
—Douglas Gilbert
Poetry and Stuff 
mmm, buttered toast. I’ve never tried marmalade, it sounds odd, not sure if i’d like it or not. Does it taste like oranges? It sounds like it’d taste like oranges for some reason or another…
favorite line(s) – ‘as if this treat were meant to taste like a love
too difficult to speak,’
a lovely poem.
It’s made with orange rind, I think. I just have a vague memory that as a little kid I was excited to be going to breakfast and able to choose something exotic to try on the toast. I loved the toast the restaurant served because it was sopping wet with butter, something my Mother would never do because she would have to observe how much butter it would be if she had to apply it herself. My Father loved watching us kids(me and my sister) order anything and enjoy ourselves[it was one of the few times he was openly kind to us(I think it had something to do with him being an orphan)]. In those days you could sit down in a real restaurant and be served in the traditional way like in the old movies not like today’s noisy, chaotic fast food place, and I remember that the staff was always so kind and friendly(and they even seemed to enjoy themselves– although I suppose that’s just a kid’s perspective(although I suppose it could have been in the 1950’s. Things have changed quite a bit since then).