In Which I Have A Proust Moment Of Sorts

The sound of bagpipes and the sight of plaid,
So vivid, and the taste of weak iced tea,
But why, on a plain Thursday? I have had
A tough time, just explaining what must be
A neuro-hiccough of some kind. Just now,
The revelation struck! A treasured friend
With whom I work has some way and somehow
Begun to smell just like another. When
I was a younger gal, Glen Glidden's home
Was quite a common destination for
My family. Once Glen and Dad did roam
The highways of a night and their rapport
Transcended how they made their livings. Sigh,
So nice to be reminded of that guy.

Sonnet Dare: In Which I Flirt With Trapping Myself In My Own Brain Loop

My expectations, met by District Nine

And yet not met... now just what does that mean?

This query, posed to me today online

Set me upon a path that, sight unseen

Is surely dangerous for me to tread.

Just as the centipede's dilemma does

Pose quite a threat to my poor tender head,

A hoops snake's shape looms also, just because

I try now to recall just what they were,

Those expectations I had, going in

To see the film. 'Tis tricky, memory:

I think back on my hopes with much chagrin,

Is what I think I hoped changed now, for me,

By what the actual exper'ience brought?

My circuits overload; my brain grows hot.