There was a time when
he spent his days hardly working
at a job he hated
surrounded by folks 
thinking with their stomachs
putting their money where their whims drove them
and It was just another day as it always was
at the “modern-retail-convenience-gas station” 
in the heart of the shops and restraunts 
on the outskirts of town where I-64 met suburbia

From the break room a voice rang out
” hey hun, you busy out there?”
he turned to see his coworker brandishing a broom
and a field mouse frantically writhing around in a mouse trap on the floor
“do you see it?” she asked ” I was hoping you could take care of it?”
she motioned for him to take the broom
” is there another way?” he asked, without taking his eyes off the mouse
“no” she said ” his foot’s caught by that glue, he’ll struggle ’til it’s torn off and thatd be worse and we gotta do this to get him outta here, well, you haven’t had to do this yet have you?”
he nodded ” yeah, I haven’t”
“it’s sad I know, don’t worry, don’t look, I’ll take care of it”
he could sense the fear in the mouse 
it was breathing so heavy it seemed to expand and contract like a miniature heart beating frantically

and before he left the room he looked back and saw that the mouse had stopped struggling as if paralyzed 
he closed the door shut behind him

we’re all field mice 
trapped by our own motivations