He doesn’t keep things forever.
Not pets nor people, Christmas tree bulbs

Nothing is an heirloom to him
but his mirror image
and triple length self publications.

He’s a tricky throw awayer
with his darting eyes, his clever lines

“Oh, you didn’t want that, did you?
It looked so old and worn.

I threw it out for you.”
He doesn’t keep things forever.

He’s a tricky throw awayer,
slight of tongue and quick hair check
all but himself out the door.

Dogs and cats and comfy chairs…
a woman called a fish.