Mice Verses Man (poem)

The mice are fat and happy at peace
with the furry little creatures mice are,
in terms of mouse dreams at least.

Mice chew and mice are happy.
Mice swallow and mice get fat.
No human stomps on them;

mice remain fat and happy.
One day, mice may sleep underneath
a homeless man's cardboard box bed,

take a few tongue-licks of liquor
from inside his discarded jug cap,
carry away a sprig of end crust

broken off a soup kitchen sandwich.
The next day, mice may mouse through a gap
under the sink, of a suburban ranch style house,

find and chew through a corn flake box,
empty, except the half-bowl-full
left in the bottom by a child. The flakes

are stale, yet mice chew and mice swallow.
Mice mouse along the baseboard unseen,
by man, but the next cupboard is bare,

and the next. The mice stay fat and happy,
even on stale corn flake rations.
The child, asleep in her bed upstairs,

dreams that mommy and daddy
will not fight about money tomorrow
and a fine supper of salad, steak, and potatoes

will be served at the table at 6:00 P.M.,
the whole family there, happy as a mouse
just like she has seen on television.