Maintenance

The sun is gone. The office is wide.

There isn't any place left to hide.

The heat is off. The air is getting thin.

I’m waiting for the night... to begin.

The printer starts a heavy, thumping beat.

A cleaning cycle. It’s almost neat.

No, not neat. It sounds like lungs,

or someone speaking in metal tongues.

A small green light starts to flare,

a lonely eye in all this empty air.

I’m still sitting in the swivel chair.

I’m not sure why I’m still there.