I picture him on his porch,

A cigarette in his hand,

Burning until the ashes are so long

He has to flick them off

There are no lights lit, he doesn't want them

But the factory lights from behind his house

Shine off his face

He's let his hair down -

It falls longer than mine

And curls around his shoulders

It seems that he's deep in thought

Perhaps about the town he grew up in

Once it seemed so large

Now that he's a "college man"

It's "too small" and "confining"

No one goes near him

They can tell by the rigid set of his back

That he doesn't want to be disturbed

I dare to go near him though

I stand behind him

And wrap my arms around his neck

His face doesn't change -

That vacant look is still there

Absently he reaches up and squeezes my hand

I know now that he doesn't care

And he probably never will

I leave him now, on his porch

His cigarette has finally burnt out

And the lights are still on

He hasn't changed

But I have