how much us Americans
love our steak, potato and asparagus dinners.
I wash mine down with a glass of wine,
wondering where this cow once lived,
wondering where the potatoes came from,
wondering in what soil did the asparagus grow,
as I cut another giant peace of bloody meat,
and shove it in my mouth.
My first stuffed animal as a child was a cow.
Of course I called him, “Cowie.”
I wonder where Cowie is now…
I push my bloody steak away from me
and pour some of my wine on the floor,
in remembrance of my great friend,
the steak taste a little like a stuffed animal...