My Final Resting Place

I have no idea where I'd be buried if I died today. Virginia? Brooklyn? No idea. I have made no plans - does anybody at my age? 26? (cough.) Matter of fact, I rarely think to grab my wallet when I leave the house. So if I got hit by a Mack truck, nobody would know who I was, and I reckon I'd end up in Potters Field. With no hopes of going out with a final laugh.