At the Shift Break

Clock melting lowly before my eyes. Half-empty stomach still growling, suspended in wait. Hurried anticipation accompanies every task. Scanning the floor, deathly afraid someone might ask A question that would lead me twenty minutes astray. Such a tiny window for a break in my day. Tumbling, euphoric, I check out for my escape. Tunes, chocolate, and fresh air rapidly abate The impending doom that we all must have felt When the clock rules over us like an iron belt Quick to strike and slow to heal, Clocks and their foremen don't care how I feel.