Paul drove his dad to the hazardous waste dump.
His dad radiated a cobalt blue glow.
This glow was his nature shining through his death
as the body initiated decomposition.
He was a mean old cuss who was not afraid
to shoot your dog to make a point.
Paul feared the incineration of cremation
would release toxic particulate into the air.
He wanted professionals who would neutralize
the acid tongue that spoke from a heart of darkness.
He was sure he would have to junk his car
once this ride was over.
Nothing would get that blue glow
out of the upholstery.
The Geiger counter he carried on walks
through the desert near Los Alamos clicked regularly.
copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney
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