It’s funny

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...


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