I kicked my chair out of the way and lay down on my back
under the table, under my VT100 terminal,
between the table's battleship gray metal legs.
For the first time I could see under my matching gray bookcase.
Prodigious dust bunnies lurked down there, tangoing with some stray Cheerios.

The linoleum sucked heat from my skin.
The floor was hard where my skull met the tiles.
So I pulled two pieces of packing foam from a shipping box
that had held a 300 megabyte disk, lined the pieces up,
and lay back down.

I studied the numbers on the property tag
stuck on underside of the table. And fell asleep.

I slept for most of the afternoon.
The security monitor woke me up when he came in
to check my safe.

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