The Tower Ideally there would be No teachers or students Just a central tower Stretching Babel-like Into the clouds Floor upon floor Of quiet offices In which devoted Administrators patiently Process a backlog Of flyspecked paperwork And send auto-replies To those emailing From far below By snagging The powdery Wifi That floats down From the windows Tiny niches Like you see In the walls of castles For archers The tower doesn’t even Have to be ivory It could be Red-brick crazily Graphed in ivy For all they care As long as it’s tall Enough that they need Tanks of oxygen On the top floors So the ones up there Can keep their heads clear