On Killing a Lover of Life's Finer Things

There are parts of my room
that'd never been inspected
let alone cleaned--
the spatial version
of the backs of a ten-year-old's ears.
Last week by chance
which I won't try to pawn off as maintenance
I moved one of the computer speakers
on my desk aside while opening a window.
To my surprise there was a small pile of
dried corn kernels and seeds
which must've been gathered, gnawed on
and then forgotten by one of the mice
that took up occupancy in our house
over the winter. This small collection of food
was all that remained of the rodent's existence
the nightly Snap! of the trap my roommate set
in the bathroom being evidence of the pests' demise.
I brushed the food, which the mouse had obviously
stolen from my rabbit, into my hand and peered
through the window at the budding tree and other signs
of spring in full bloom. I was never the one to set
or empty that trap, and for good reason that
my discovery only proved:
Mice, like people, enjoy a good view.
We're bound to have more in common.