Day 64- 11.19.20
A side of mashed potatoes (yes this is a poem)
I measure the water,
but not precisely.
Two cups go in, then time to
get ahold of the knob, push it in and
turn it to high, then the waiting starts.
While waiting for the water to boil,
I rotate through several compulsions--
I pet my dog, walk to the bathroom and
glance at my reflection,
ponder the meaning of eternity,
pick at my cuticles.
Once it's boiling, the bag of
dehydrated potatoes goes in,
and after that it all comes together
quite quickly actually.