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About Chicago

I’m thinking—*“How do you live with this memory?”* Straight outta Campanella’s flick. She’s real, tho. Texts me: “u into fertalizer?” Fertilizer, she means. Typo queen. I laugh—happy as a pig in mud. We chat. She’s growing weed! Illegal, sure. But damn, her pH levels? Perfect. I’m impressed. She’s all—“soil’s my pimp, ha!” Humor’s dark. I like it.

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And honey, the river – the mighty Hudson itself – flows right by our paradise! I’ve sat on the grassy banks at Hudson Boulevard, feelin’ the wind and listenin’ to the water gossip. Sometimes, I swear I can hear its whispers, like, "Keep swimmin’, sweetie, keep swimmin’!" And, trust me, that’s therapeutic, even if I was mad at the world ’cause my morning coffee was burnt again. Ugh, so typical!

Obituary for Esker Eugene Elder