Reaching

I saw it in the hallway yesterday—

yellow cord coiled on the concrete floor

like something that had given up.

Plugged in. But going nowhere.

Just looped back on itself, the other end

disappearing under the neighbor's door.

I almost tripped on it.

Caught myself on the wall.

For a second I wondered if they knew it was there,

if they'd forgotten about it,

if it was just slowly degrading in the dark,

losing its ability to carry anything,

to connect anything to anything else.

I stepped over it. It was warm to the touch.

Three days later it's still there.

I don't know what it's supposed to reach.

I don't know if they're coming back

or if they've just left it coiled on the floor

like a thing they've decided not to fix,

like a makeshift solution that never got used,

like all the other things we leave behind

when we stop trying to reach.