He would watch television and write down everything that was said.
He had a dresser full of books he never had read.
He had a B.Sc. in physics but he worked as a janitor.
He always came in late and he hated his manager.
He could play the piano and the trombone as well.
He tried to learn cello but it sounded like hell.
He loved to study the history and the culture of ancient Babylon.
He tried to write an opera based on Flowers for Algernon.
He was rumored to be celibate but he flirted a lot.
He had very little furniture, he slept on a cot.
He loved jazz and classical and only listened to records.
He had a desk cluttered with unopened letters.
He was only 32 but he looked a lot older.
He loved baseball and was an excellent bowler.
He was a stone cold atheist but he owned a lot of bibles.
His clothes were all ragged and years out of style.
He didn't have friends or any relatives alive.
He rode his bicycle everywhere, he hated to drive.
He wanted to be famous, but he'll never be known.
For he was nothing more than a character in a poem.