failing the test

when your son was little,
in the three to five range
of age, the trend
was to take children,
for their birthdays,
to chuckee cheese's. a place
you remember as a living
hell, with mechanical
rats singing non stop
on a revolving platform.
there was a coat of kid
goo on every chair. every
table, every knob, or
spoon, or cup. they
all wanted pizza and cokes.
sugar and cardboard
with tomato sauce
ladled onto the round
stiff pies. the place
was a slime festival
of noise. sometimes you'd
stay for more than five
minutes, but rarely more
than that. you'd leave
him with your wife, your
ex-wife. maybe leaving
had something to do with
that. but a man has to
know his limitations.
and singing rats, and
a room full of screaming
children put you to the
test. a test you failed.
sometimes you'd go out
to your car and cry.
putting your head on
the steering wheel
weeping, praying that he'd
get past this age.