Losing Touch

I've lost touch with reality.
Uprooted. Estranged.
Syncopated rhythms lulling syncopated rhymes
Not for me.

Me, the mouse in the apartment refuses.
Enter the trap, I will it.
There is cheese in there, I say.
He stares.
Blink.
Blink.
Blinks in mouselike mockery
(if they are capable of such a thing).
He is smarter than I.


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