Thursday, March 15, 2007


There once was a little mouse on a little ledge on the roof of a
little house. The ledge looked big and the house bigger, but it
wasn’t a bad fall, if it came to that. The ledge was ice, which is
fine for mice, except for one with a cat in tow. The mouse pondered
its plight; jump, or head back to the cat’s delight.

Safe for a moment, the cat wouldn’t dare go out to the edge, but he
was determined to wait for his treat to leave his safe little ledge.
Three days went by and they both died, stubborn for safety and
stubborn with pride.

I had to clean the ledge, the two frozen bodies with beady eyes in
line, frozen with ice, their gaze frozen in time. I boiled them in
water and I ate their guts, just kidding, I chucked them in the trash
you gullible fucks. But every time I do eat cats or mice, I do think
of them; their flaws for their cause, and their claws tight on
fleeting floors.

I’m stubborn as hell, I can see it like lumps in my flesh, but every
time I unwind one, there’s another tightening or taught or ready to
snap. The view ahead is a mirage, no sight is that keen; to see
something sharp is to focus, and to focus is to leave all else unseen.

Tonight, I will eat and drink, but maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll just
watch American Idol.

by Jason Forman

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