Doctor Faustus

An old man

Sits on the porch of his shotgun shack

Out on Route 322 south of Meadville

He sees you but you don't see him

May be speeding past sixty miles an hour

He can see you

Hhe can see your hopes and dreams and fears

Trailing behind

Like scraps of paper that have been torn from a map

I am damned

To almost see what could have been

To almost know what should have been

I am free

No dignity remains to remind me of the man I used to be

Sorrow hangs on me like a baggy suit of clothes