The Terminal

The dusty old terminal
Finally died
It gave up the ghost
And its circuitboard fried
With a grey puff of smoke
And electrical spark
The green pixels went
And the screen went dark
Decades of data
Burned into to the screen
Are all that is left
On there to be seen
This is the worst time
For the screen to go blank
Because I need to get cash
Out of the bank
I pull out my phone
And tap on the app
To seek out another
Machine on the map
There’s one down the block
(And that is a wrap)