The fluorescent hum has a headache’s bite

The fluorescent hum has a headache’s bite.

I hit the button and watch the screen go gray,

leaving the cursor to blink in the dim light.

Then the tray wakes up with a mechanical heave,

a plastic shudder, a rhythmic, grinding groan

as the rollers grab the page I’m about to leave.

Three sentences thin enough to disappear,

sliding out warm and smelling of scorched ink.

The green light on the console is the only witness here,

pulsing like a steady, unfeeling heart.

It doesn’t care about the bridge I’m burning,

or how many quiet years it took to start.