take a moment the next time you’re at murder lake and pick up any of the knives washed up on its shores

feel its heft, its bright metal tooth glinting in the setting sun like a cheshire cat, the worn handle laying in your hand comfortable and smooth

now, reel back and sidearm it across the lake, sending it skittering on the water’s calm surface until it disappears below. don’t mind the signs saying it ain’t allowed, son. this is your moment, just as the sun sinks below the horizon, just as a knife sinks into a lake or body

and just remember what your old friend dr. murder told ya