My ashes tossed up for the winds to scatter

on a hillside of my childhood in the great sweeping plains

where hillsides are as uncommon as poets

my divested dispersal and separated sepulchers

wholly dependable on any way the wind blows

an exuberant gust could land me in Kansas or Oz

There is no one known to actually do it

no one left who loved me enough to stick around

to carry out my lifetime much less final wishes

so some dreary droning malsuited banker lawyer undertaker

will dutifully stand stumble mumble meaningless words

then let 'er go flying in whatever breeze at hand

Stale sandwiches and store bought cookies to follow

provided by the cremation vendor as part of the package

coffee too soda available from the machine out back

sorry no booze they don't have much of a budget

you might be alone in their rancid reception room

so bring your own deft and titillating conversation