Who is Nassir?

The shower was warmer than normal.

Even the rain cut it's musical performance  during the so-called shower permitting tears to fall.

Don't believe the cold water would have been turned on if the shoe was on the other foot. 

Maybe it reminded me too much of the 57 Chevy he once owned that sound much like a strangled peacock.

I forgot to take my socks off.

Not that it was an important detail to remember I guess but I know he would have found it funny.

Of all things to focus on, why in the hell would you have succulents in the shower? I mean...really?

Sometimes I wonder just what it would be like if I had an ounce of his swagger to say "Fuck It" like he did?

 More importantly, I'm grateful he used drain 'o  to unclog the drain; so much hair for a 5'6 man of svelte.

Should I keep this image of my talented friend locked away?

Should I share it?

 Is that not appropriate?

 His Mother would find it funny at least, he had her humor.

 I'll miss him everyday. He was a beautiful man.

 At least we have France....I will never tell that story to anyone.      -Olen '18 PDX

                                                                               {Part 2}

I will never forget our last meet.

He stood in the middle of this chaotic Irish bar, our favorite watering hole, in those expensive jeans I told him not to buy, like a Roman God among a soaked filled room of desperation spilling his proverbial guts to his friends that were just as inebriated, explaining how he met the love of his life while not spilling a drop of beer swaying in the late hours of the night. 

His generous bravado caused a look or two which suggest we were all more drunk than we thought.

 The wooden bars and floors smelled of everyone's favorite drink.

 Coats lying on bar stools dripping with wet thanks to the winter we received early.

 Dim lights. Loud music. Scattered memorabilia eclectically strewed on the walls. 

 And not a dry eye in the house of The Dublin Down. 
                                                                This was life.