we scattered my father's cremated remains
well, some of them
off the jetty in Alamitos Bay
a brother played trumpet: taps
we sang "waltzing matilda"
bubbles were blown
tears were shed
flowers were given to the bay on the inward tide
the marine layer kept things gray
the cool breeze was ours for a time
we gradually turned back to the way we came
and then another day was gone
***
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