Climbing out from under the table
to where the rocking guerilla stares and
the giant mouse runs too close to your face.
Mocks you with the frozen smile and a dry nose.
Where the wild things are
you sit with two tear stained cheeks.
Rage at being pulled from your bowed state
with the view of their shoes and
the nudge from their knee caps.
If only the stuffed mouse would stay away
you could be brave, brave all day.
Who wanted this party anyway?
Oh. You did. Happy Birthday.