2 B Toast Poast Number XXX

Shopping in Whole Foods a while back, picked up a loaf of bread in one of those stiff, crinkly, noisy plastic bags. Sharp cuts in the top crust, baked to steel blade toughness, had sliced the bag limb to limb. “Yikes,” I said to the bakery clerk, “This is some dangerous bread.” “You could CUT yourself on that bread!” she said.


Tofu bread, sharp as a stropped razor, lining the shelves in the east village. What would you put in it? Meat? Tofu? Metal filings?