mice

how come the mice, all the cute ones with their furry little suits on, the gals and misters with the pretty little whiskers, all want to stay?, what's with the mice, are they catholic with those families?, enough said. i confront them, with a minimum of bloodshed, the "have-a-heart" way, but if you pull back to some point in the stratosphere, from that great height it's like mice we all must appear, think of the mice, always grateful when the slightest little crumb drops, finding dinner in the dreadlocks of the dust mop, never too proud, not as noisy as a chipmunk or a squirrel, if they argue it's completely intramural, never too loud