Farewell To You 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 an inappropriate 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.