The State of Jefferson
Trucks shuffle in the slow lane.
Mt. Shasta’s a crazy white cone.
I drive as fast as I dare.
Car my shelter, my tiny house
of spiders’ nests and trash. Even
in an imaginary land,
you need to refuel: 8.5
gallons of unleaded and
I-5’s traditional cuisine:
crinkly bags of Chex Mix and
Sour Worms at Manfredi’s
Food & Gas Depot in Dunsmuir.
On the passenger seat, a
thumb-sized jar of my father’s
ashes. I’d be lying if
I said it didn’t give me
a weird little thrill to have
