My Departed Other Brother: Mike Dorsey

Michael "Parks" Dorsey on the job

We had good times drunk.
We had great times sober.
We smoked cigars to the Sugarcubes
and we took a road like no other-
which cannot ever be taken by anyone else
ever again.

You took me to the Muddy Banks of the Wishkah,
but we Unplugged together.
I helped you discover Chili Peppers weren’t so bad.
You teaching me to Live Through This
is the only reason I have Celebrity Skin.

We shared dozens of things.
Saying hundreds of things only feels selfish on my part.
Howard Stern. The Simpsons.
Even the whoop of a laugh I get from enjoying either of those two things
can be attributed to you.
We have the same favorite B.B. King refrain,
but I forget who discovered it first.
Maybe it was my CD,
but your ear.

I can’t remember when it happened,
or how long it took.
A part of you fused with me.
I can only wonder if anything similar
happened to you.
If you felt it too.
Now I can only wonder.
I had before,
but now I have no choice;
like so many other questions you can’t answer.
I can’t think of any right now…
…but I did…
…and I will.

I do know this:
We never separated angry.
For all the times we came together.
If there was an ill feeling or animosity,
it was mutual towards a shared target.
Never towards one another.
No matter what the emotion was,
it was always better when sharing it with you.
We shared many object; tangible or otherwise.
Even family.
One joke was my grandfather was so much like yours.
When I finally met the man,
I realized the truth in your statement.
After all…
Your brother is mine,
and so was my sister. 515

If only the adventures between you me were
half as exciting as anything that happened when it was
you and my siblings.
But then again,
you were my brother too.
Sharing who and what I was,
just as you did for me.

Your stories took me
within the trenches
of Hades and heroism.
We spent the night where fire turned to glass.
I tried to give you a taste of my world too-
but a life of cameras, emulsion, and typing
could never compare to the goals
you developed so early on;
and followed through with — which no person
could debate.
Then again, I expected it. I always believed in you
and your ambitions.

You had lofty ideals for me as well.
You defended me.
That’s why I kept writing, editing, and
rewriting this.
I’m sure you’d expect no less.

One of my favorite honors from you
was getting the chance to make a video
for your EMT class graduation.
It was a chance to do
what you said I was best at…
…and a chance for me to represent you.
I had your trust and endorsement.
For that I have been grateful,
ever since.

I want to go on
and tell every story I could,
as long as I could.
Like playing the original Resident Evil
full blast – feeling the ammo pound
through the speakers on my floor.
Calling me over in a panic,
so we could count each and every
of the “22 Short Stories About Springfield”
on the fly.
Counted them all, we did. Mm-hmm…
If only I could say that remark the same way.
Or hear it from you again.
Or one last, “Oh no, nippy…”
Hearing you laugh in the same breath
as mentioning Frank Grimes
as “Grimey”.

If you can’t tell by now,
I don’t want to end this:
just as I cannot accept this
as the end of our friendship.
Our brotherhood.

What I can expect is
to never forget you;
never let it fade.
Then again, I can’t:
A part of you has been fused
into my core.

I still refuse to let it end.
So even in finishing these thoughts…
I cannot place a period to truly close this up-
to bring it all to an end.
For now,
I simply refuse

I’ve been downhearted, baby
(I’ve been downhearted, baby)
ever since the day you left
(ever since the day you left)


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