A mouse had babies in my apartment. They don’t know shit from shamrock because they’re too young yet — they don’t know they’re supposed to run when they see me. The one today just walked around my apartment with impunity, exploring, sniffing at my books on the floor. He stopped to drink droplets of water on the kitchen floor — while I stood there. Maybe he knew (she?) that I referred to mice as cute Disney creatures in a previous post. Maybe he knew that I don’t kill mice, that in the previous days I merely trapped his brother and sister in a shoebox with bread, took them outside and let them free in the woods. “This nice lady likes us,” they think. How did the one sibling wind up in my bathtub like Sisyphus? He’d get so far up the porcelain curve before sliding down. I gotta admit he was kinda cute. But how? It couldn’tve climbed up the outside of the tub. Baffling. The one today I didn’t capture so it could still be in here. It just better stay the hell out of the crack of my ass! One time a couple years ago I swear one flitted across my ass while I was in bed. I’m not infested. And I’m not a dirty girl. I think they just know I feel their pathos. I left the little runt here today and went on my way.
On the train I fell asleep and was awakened by a man who sat across from me grumbling about some fellow black folks he was fittin’ to kill. Talking to himself the whole time, using the rapper’s expletive, the so-called N word — he promised to kill up all of them because they had done something to him. He was so angry, spewing all that killingness that I left the car. I have a choice you know. As this was one of the cars that you couldn’t walk through, at the next stop I got out of the car and ran to the next car before the train pulled off.
I went to my doctor’s. She thinks the tingling in my face and arm may be because of a nerve healing after the oral surgery I had — so I’ll have tests. I left there and tried to find humane traps at Whole Foods and Home Goods. No go. I thought my friend who I’m hanging out with tomorrow might know where to get them. She knows about stuff like that.
The train going home was crowded so I had to stand. “Yo ma you want to sit down?” A man says, pointing to a seat next to a giant suitcase. I thought he wanted me to sit on the suitcase at first. I knew he was off — I shook my head and cast my eyes down. He was a white male using black street vernacular, tall, wearing urban gear. He had piercing eyes and a threatening demeanor. He then yelled at passengers with a psychotic testosterone fueled rant, “Ma wants to sit down yo — let ma sit down!” He walked toward me. I shook my head and moved further away. He targeted an Asian gentlemen reading a book. “Yo, you smart. Let Ma sit down.” The poor guy looked at me and began to rise. I shook my head furiously, determined not to speak as I didn’t want to say anything this man could attach himself to. Thank God this was a car you could walk through — I made my way closer to the area between the cars. The man continued bullying, “Ma wants to sit down, somebody gotta git up yo!” He waved an arm at all the passengers. A woman offered me her seat. I thought about her personality type. Was she easily intimidated, somebody who didn’t feel worthy of her own seat? I swiftly made it to the next car while the train was still moving — I love being able to escape a car if I have to. Looking behind me constantly, I could see the champion of my cause peering through the window. I leaned back so my view would be blotted by a standing passenger. I wondered if I should move still further, but I was fine for the rest of the ride — what the hell was going on in New York City’s subway system today?
At home I called my friend about our date for the museum tomorrow, planning also to ask about the humane mouse traps. She has a consciousness about these things. She’s into healthy eating — her sister is into holistic health. I imagined a little box with compartments for food and water, maybe with a steel mesh window so the little buggers wouldn’t feel claustrophobic. “Hey, do you know about humane mouse traps?” I said, telling her my mouse stories. “Just kill the little motherfuckers with a bat. You let ’em go they’re gonna be killed anyway,” she said. Ah yeah, the day.