Dust on the Porch
His name's still on the file,
I see it every time,
git blame on line four hundred,
two thousand nineteen. He had a flight to catch
that Thursday afternoon, so he hardcoded a number
and he left it there for me.
They told me not to touch it
when I started here in May.
They said that's Danny's code,
and Danny doesn't work here anymore.
Nobody's got his number,
nobody knows the state,
and it runs at four a.m.
and it has never missed a day.
And I don't know where he went
And I don't know what he meant
But it's holding up this whole damn place And he'll never know
He was tired and he was late and he made something that
would wait
seven years for somebody like me
to come along and let it go
I read it once in winter
when the office was alone.
It's not bad.
It's not bad at all.
It's just a man
who had to go.
There's a comment there in lowercase,
it says "fix this if you can,"
and I sat there in the dark a while and I thought
about that man.
And I don't know where he went
And I don't know what he meant But it's holding up this
whole damn place And he'll never know He was tired and he
was late and he made something that would wait
seven years for somebody like me
to come along and let it go
I got a flight to catch on Thursday.
I got a thing I have to ship.
And there's a line in here I'm writing that I know I'll
never get back to.
And some kid's gonna find it in 2033
and wonder who I was and whether I was any good.
I hope he's kind about it.
I hope he leaves it be.
And I don't know where he went
And I don't know what he meant
But it's holding up this whole damn place And he'll never know
He was tired and he was late and he made something that
would wait
seven years for somebody like me
to come along and let it go
Fix this if you can.
Fix this if you can.