existential crisis at dennys
the waitress tells me she used to own a cow
called it freezer because that’s where it went when it died
when she says it was the meanest animal she owned
i tell her
over cold eggs, and soggy toast
that the art of dying is like growing a backbone
it’s not how you die that makes the foundation
it’s knowing the other side is two feet away
and that you’ll have to travel light
when you cross
-weasel
