On the ninth floor the copier was jammed

The ink stuck in the veins

Never making it to the well

The memo left blank

On the eleventh floor the water cooler was dry

The paper funnels useless

Lips chapped and throats warm

Words stuck in transit

On the twentieth floor the air was out

Ties too tight around necklines

Heat rising underneath buttons

Sweat building on temples

On the first floor the lights went out

A corresponding terminal thud

With eyes left unadapted

No difference open or closed