Stress Dream

Running through a maze of gray;
always running, never stopping;
always fleeing, never resting.
~
Something chases, fast and fearsome;
always chasing, never stopping;
always hunting, never halting.
~
If I’m running, what is chasing?
If I’m chasing, what is running?
~
Who is hunting?
Who is fleeing?
~
Running through a maze of gray;
always running, always hunting.
~
Rushing through a labyrinth nightmare;
always stalking, always fleeing.
~
When I’m sleeping, always dreaming;
always dreaming, never stopping;
always dreaming, never ceasing.

Mashed Potato Medley

Thanksgiving. Christmas. The times of
succulent steaming solution: a Mashed Potato Medley.
Potatoes, mashed; vegetables, assorted; turkey, baked
The magic of dinner is all I need; I sit and salivate as it cooks.
The long wait, a culinary curse, a penalty earned for learning
the edible language of holiday meals.
It is served, I scoop it; it flows almost immediately upwards on forks and knives.
Words sometimes do, too. Like schadenfreude and elwetridsche.
Long, many-syllabled strings of unpronounceable letters,
which I twist, trip over, and test again and again.
In the boisterous setting of the holiday
Mealtime of the Mashed Potato Medley.