I rummaged your belonging after you died,
before they dispersed to inheritors and thrift shops.
Your autographed copy of the thirteenth amendment
will accompany you into the fire, as you wished.
I will make the drive and place a tablespoon of ash
at each of your long list of historic locations.
I believe you laid this last request on me
knowing my love of cross-country road trips.
You left me your red wool scarf, the one with the three inch tear
zig-zag stitched with electric blue yarn,
an ancient leather flying cap, and a Snoopy doll
to ride the dashboard and photo-ops for the travel blog.
copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney
