"I killed a frog"
September 10, 2001, 1:49 a.m.

I killed a frog this evening.

Not on purpose. It was an accident. I was going out the front door of my house to go outside for a smoke. When I tried closing the door and it wouldn't close so I tried it again, harder. It still wouldn't close.

I looked up to see if there was anything in the way and I could see nothing. I looked at the floor and there it was, this lump of something. I couldn't see very well as the porch light was off. So I bent closer and saw that it was a frog, or maybe it was a toad. It was belly up and it's guts were spewed out.

I stared at it, just to make sure I knew what I was seeing.

I grabbed flyer from the desk in the front room and scraped the frog away and threw him in the bushes by the front door.

I lit my cigarette and as I did I started crying. I cried for the frog, I cried for the karma of it. I was sad already because I had been missing my nephew and grandmother. I kept on crying. I cried for the bird that I watched get gruesomely killed and eaten by a neighborhood cat this morning.

I cried because death is part of life.

And I know that I shall die one day too.