driving home from work on the pomona freeway, traffic backs up. commuters slow down to see a motorist being given a ticket. while the traffic moves slowly, a large shiny semi creeps past my car. between the small holes which speckle the side of the trailer I get glimpses of the black and white cows, their noses dripping from the cold. where are these cows going? pretending I don’t know—denying to acknowledge. finally admit they are destined to become dinner for the passing motorists. why must these lovely creatures give their lives to fill the millions of brown bags with quarter pounders and whoppers? other motorists don’t seem to notice. how sad I feel that no one else seems to care. the screech of air brakes from the passing Semi, and the grinding of the transmission gives way to the dull rumble of the diesel engine. wisps of white clouds veil the red sun as it sets behind the blue mountain. glad to be having tofu and rice for dinner tonight.