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In science, I open up our leopard frog from throat to groin.
 My lab partner Daniel turns away.
Our frog is female; I can tell, because it's full, full, of black eggs.
Seems kind of not right how they, the eggs, are sort of overflowing into the body cavity, clogging the organs and sticking to my fingers.
Don't female frogs have wombs.
Maybe this one is a mutant.
Then it seems kind of not right how it, the frog, is splayed out on a metal table with us cutting it open.
At some point I faint. This is later, when I'm walking home beside the railroad tracks, heading toward the steel-colored river, and no one's near. When I wake up, I pick pebbles out of my face and feel dizzy. My parka is dirty.
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