Hauling ashes

I fetched the box today.

She rode downtown with me

on the thirty eight

to Howard and Beale.

The Blue Angels howled

and shrieked above

as if to rip and rend

the tender autumn sky.

I always enjoyed 

hauling her ashes,

on warm afternoons

on downy sheets and pillows.

As traffic crawled past Powell

I looked up at Macy's 

and saw the window sashes

on the upper floors are rotting.

The lotto tickets in my pocket

came to nothing. I dared fate

-Go ahead, compensate me

for your cruel mistake.

As if I wouldn't trade

a million Franklins

for a few more years.

Instead I shed a million tears.

I'll haul your ashes, dear.

One more time soaring through

the blue Pacific dome

to a restful home

in a temple tower

in Bangkok.

You know the one.

It's right across the street.