I want to be the mouse
that crawls into your car in a rainstorm,
eats the crumbs you left behind,
shits on your floorboards and nibbles your cushions,
chews the wiring of your instrument panel
and burrows into your engine block to die,
curl up into a ball and become a mound of hair and bone;
become, after a period of brief annoyance,
forever interred in the machinery of your life.

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1 Response to Mouse

  1. Anonymous says:

    Good poem.

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