Farewell Brother

I never got to know Russell that well.
Not nearly as well as I would've liked.
But from the moment I first met him,
I knew I had found myself a kindred spirit.
It was one of those separated-at-birth moments.
He made me chuckle did Russell.
He had that rare ability to make me cringe too.
The last time I saw him, he told me about
the afternoon he lost his virginity
to a local girl
in a flat above a hairdresser's salon in Hampshire.
Over dinner, he insisted on
bluetoothing me some low-res S&M pornography.
Russell's son, Charlie, is part
Cherokee Indian - on his mother's side.
My heart soars like an eagle
to that golden place where his father's soul
now mingles with the green corn and the 13 moons;
there to share a sacred smoke
with the Oldest Wind
and the ancient Thunder Beings.