The steak at these places, the steak, every Friday

they hand me a cardboard box of steak and blue cheese and they ask me if I’d like an egg. As if that’s even a question. Why yes, I would like an egg – if I were a blade of grass I would like an egg. But, am I a blade of grass today, Cheryl? Am I?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m coming back around to DeLillo

don’t tell my sisters.