Shrillalarm beeps absent this morning,
But I replace them with panicking gasps as Iregister the minute hand.
The shower beckons,
Not today.
I must denymyself and live with greasy hair.
Makeup?
Sorry.
Yesterday's eyelinerwill have to do.
Seconds tick away like water through a colander,
I blindlygrope in the hamper:
Jeans too loose from yesterday's wear,
Shirt, stainedand wrinkled, smells like carpet fuzz.
I enter the sock lottery,
Andrandomly grab two from the bottom drawer.
No surprise:
They don'tmatch.
Drip, drip, drip, the seconds go by,
And breakfast becomes a miragein the Sahara.
Unless I crave instant pudding with spaghetti sauce,
I'mgoing hungry today.
The horn honks,
Like my mother calling me by my fullname.
As I rush into the cold,
My fate is sealed by the door slam.
I'mlate.