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