A collector for life
was Fillmore Maxim
He rents storage lockers
and really packs 'em
It will
give you the creeps
All the stuff
that he keeps!
His house is all stuffed
in each nook and cranny
He has diapers through bloomers
worn by his Granny
His first dog's first collars
and rabies tags
All the saddles and bridles
he dressed on his nags
Many albums of photos
show off his kin
But no names are remembered
or the years that they're in
Machinery not working
fills a barn and a shed
Seven cars rust away
in a garage painted red
He has the clothes and the luggage
of four previous wives
That slipped out the door
and ran for their lives.
Magazines and papers
are heaped-up in piles.
If straightened and measured
they'd run twenty miles
Many jars full of coins
– especially the cent
Fillmore liked money
cached and not spent
Maybe some time
he will need it for rent
Fillmore bought computers
to scan and to copy
So now besides paper
he has many a floppy
Obsolete for years
they just fill up more space
And stacks of old computers
are all over the place
He has a dozen fat TVs
made before the remote
The antlers of a buck deer
and the skull of a goat
Fillmore planned
to add a west wing
Shelves and racks
were the desirable thing
Then fracking started a rumble
and created a 'quake
The junk fell on Fillmore
pressed him thin as a snake
He is now in the dump
like a ten layer cake
Fillmore's ghost is quite happy
by the cumulation of junk
Now a compressed Fillmore
is a substantial chunk
***
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