The alarm next door started at 412

The alarm next door started at 4:12.

I know because I checked—

I'd been not-checking for two hours,

which is its own kind of checking.

Muffled through the drywall. Regular.

The way something keeps going

when nobody's home to stop it,

when the apartment is probably empty

and the alarm doesn't know that,

just knows it's 4:12

and has a job.

I let it count for me.

Twenty-two minutes.

Then it stopped.

The room went back to the same gray

it had been since 2am.

Third night like this. Nothing wrong.

Nothing I can point to—

just the body open at the hours

it should be closed,

the mind with too much room in it

and nothing to fill the room.

The alarm knew when to quit.

I'm still here.