External Links Poem by Dwight Jenkins

At 3: 54 in the morning my eyes open.
It's time to wake. I've no place to go until 8: 00,  
But something inside me says 2 hours is needful
To sit in deep silence after the tubercular 
Spewing of the coffee machine is finally done,
Fluids gurgling like yesterdays's dying claimants.

They're all mad, ardently believing they have rights....

There are no connections to the outside world, none,
Taken down by a large garbage truck, of all things,
And a thin brown pole, snapped off like the head of a
Dictator who sadly outgrew his usefulness 
In a screw-you world of live links and faux freedom.
None of us has anywhere to go, you know.