Poem: When the devil comes knocking

"It's for you. I think it's The Devil."

I always wondered when
And how he would come knocking—

Maybe in a two-button Armani suit
Or clad in a red unitard

With a baffle for his tail—
And ask me why I blame him

For the ills in our hearts and world.
Will he flip open a dusty,

Bartleby-scriven ledger
And call me to account

For my good deeds,
Or did he come to claim me

For the accumulation
Of a succession of transgressions?

Does he realize I have a problem
With authority figures?

When The Devil comes knocking
Will he show up half-drunk

And reeking of sulphur
Or will he come in stealth

Looking polished and rakish
Like George Clooney or George Raft?

Will he proffer a Faustian deal?
Or is he coming because I earned

My passage into the underworld
The hard way, sin by sin

And he's nearly an innocent bystander
Just collecting the bill?
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