By: Josh Malett
The alarm clock in the break room is unique.
She didn’t set it before she snoozed on the couch.
This clock rarely knows the time.
It has two legs, like an old fashioned wind up alarm clock you place on your shelf just for the aesthetic value.
Or one you hide on the floor far from your bed,
To force you from your warm blankets and into the cold harsh morning.
This is the original analog.
It predates the sundial.
Volatile and unreliable, yet effective.
You don’t smack its top to put in snooze.
The password is God bless you, gesundheit or salud,
That day last week during her mid day sleep,
She was awoken by a room filling achoo.
Next time I’ll grab a tissue, or see myself out.