There's this no neck mouse
living in my house
while the snow
is too deep
outside.
He's brazen, Mr. NoNeck,
mouse in my house,
grazing on my dirt and
poopin' on my shirt and
peein' everywhere.
All the good food
is safe, tight,
in jars--might as well
be on Mars, far's
Mr. NoNeck's concerned.
So this NoNeck brazen
grazin' house mouse,
he sings and prances while
Miss Leashed Dog dances
taut at end of tether.
Outright laughin, Mr. NoNeck's
passin right by Mark's
no-mouse machine,
with a mean grin on
his nasty little no-neck face.
Mr. NoNeck giggles,
zips by in a flash,
near-tickled by the hair
of our frowning eyebrows--
he's that close.
The breeze of his passing sends
clumps of red dog hair
spinning on oak floor but
tonight when we sleep it'll
warm NoNeck's nest.
He dreams he can speak:
he says "what the heck"
and arches his no-neck
then calls all his friends
to pee in my teapot.
2/21/93
Daniel Friedman's Poetry & Short Stories
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