The time on her alarm clock is set half an hour fast
to soften the shock of early morning—
as if the thought of waking up at 5 a.m. instead of 4:30
might somehow make the workday go by quicker.

She moves, half asleep, through her morning routine—
hair washed in the kitchen sink and blown dry under a dusty ceiling fan,
a glass of Coke and the first of two dozen cigarettes smoked—
the only true constant of her entire adult life.

She will arrive before anyone else.
Even before the sun.