The Orchestrtor Poem by Thomas Plotz

The Lone Arranger

Who's the grand man?
The Orchestrator, whispering operational commands,
Into my comm., from a far,

It's the Matrix, of all things
Turn right, eat this, say that, and love her,
Nothing like an implant, yes they really do exist,

The Orchestrator, the reader of the plan
The grand man, in my head,
He never gives his real name,

Just the same, it's probably Sue

T. Plotz
The Orchestrator
4 JAN 2016