Jan was sitting at a table in February of 1995 Enrico's on Broadway before her kidneys shut down completely I wrote out a check after talking with some people then sat down with her looking at her profile searching for her father trying to figure out what makes us all pass through like urine like words like her father said all his stuff is up for grabs now it's relic memorabilia now it's scholarly research or locked up so valuable auctioned off to pay estate taxes but seldom someone a collector a trivial actor his own profile surrounded and surrendered in a million photos what's it worth his own energy surging up making clutter like my own as I wonder who will pore over my archives paw through the historical testaments and records frayed newspapers of a dying hippies crumpled poetry lost now in the cracked moments of recurring fragments flashbacks pamphlets posters homage to the generation her only son Jack's grandson is he owed anything like a survivor of the Holocaust or a shark ravaged teenager who didn't panic lucky he said the shark grabbed his leg not his guts not his belly in his backpack up on the beach a copy of On the Road