drinking a whiskey
with my dead
listening to echoes
in my head
light a candle
pour the drink
leave the music on
it’s too quiet to think
for clear reasons, i rarely rhyme my verse. but this one just kind of happened that way.
remember that time i spent the summer living on the land of a member of the ho-chunk nation? a man named reykunami? he spent most of the summer complaining to me about my friend whom he was dating on & off. their on & off again dating cycle ended two days after i wrote this art journal page. she texted me to tell me he had taken her out for margaritas to celebrate the day of the dead. so i wrote this verse. two days later she texted me to tell me he had died. he just laid down on his couch on a warm november day and never woke up again.
the ho-chunks call this “walking on.”
reykunami walked on.
i have conflicted feelings. he was a bit of a son of a bitch & reminded me a lot of dusty in his manipulations…but he had a good heart & did a lot for the rights of nature… and he led such a colorful life!
next year i will make sure to share my whiskey with him.