Rollback

So today's my second to last day at work (it would be my third to last if I weren't a lazy bastard taking tomorrow off.)

In times like this, little things take on meaning.  Little things like deleting stuff off my desktop.  You know, both my digital desktop and my analog desktop.  I look at the files I have scattered around and unearth months of work.  I dig out the roots I've set in and I want to watch the gap I leave heal itself.  Watch the machinery turn on regardless.

These things happen.
And they happen without ceremony.

We are always accelerating, entrenching ourselves and digging ourselves out.  My files are scattered all over the hard drive now.  It's the last days work to pack them into bundles, zip them up and copy them over.  What needs to be saved is saved.  The surplus spills out, gets lost in trashcans.  Somewhere there is a pile of shredded paper with bits of my name on it.

The B of a research credentialing document.
The E of a IRB memo.
The N of an unfinished poem.

Our paper trails are our threads of Fate,
We spool them out until our packet runs dry.
The printer beeps beeps beeps.
Waits to be reloaded.  Restart.  Renew.