routine

every night i pour myself a cup of orange juice (with pulp), turn on the heater, crawl into my pink flannel pajamas, and sink slowly into bed. i open a textbook, close my eyes,

and listen to a distant, annoying sound. it keeps growing louder. the clamor turns into a country singer, covered in tacky denim tassels and dripping with frizzy blond hair. she won't stop singing. i try running, screaming, but her voice follows me everywhere, filling my head with her siren's song. something twangs in my ear. it's a broken alarm clock. no matter what i try it, it continues to ring. everyone is waking up, angry, but even when i flush the roaring device down the toilet the music keeps growing more impatient, louder, shrieking, screaming.

i wake up with the corner of my textbook etched into my cheek. my alarm has been ringing for two hours.
i'm already late.