Everything in his life was a one time purchase. He had no storage, no past, never planned a history for any future. He gave you found things in wrappings of used garbage -he moved these pieces of things in order for you to find them later to make them new again, or, because he favored no dogs in this life, he might of just passed on leaving mysteries. He gave away memories by the steps left on the places as he walked away, showing by example the wearing down of a life though the constant pounding of an unrepentant pogo stick marking the pace of his unmeasured strides. He gradually lost each tooth one at a time. The lesson was the watching. He died alone. I didn't think to return anything of me to him, but he wouldn't have found it if I'd I left it, he wouldn't have looked at all.
Poetry, Politics and Humor