Like the conductor on a platform,
Pocket watch in hand,
He pulled out his flip phone
Timing the evening's show.
He was the showman,
Conducting our night club journey.
The musician's notes carried us.
Our social games imported us.
But with his pocket flip phone
He kept the train on time.
Our iPhones and Galaxies waited,
Luggage filled with our days,
For the conductors nod
To pick them up and move on.
It was the conductor and his flip phone,
Or was it a pocket watch,
That drove the night.
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