The birds always sing loudest right before
the light hits the ground. An early morning
wake up call startles me out of a dream. You
are panic stricken, perhaps rum drunk. You
want to tell me you're sorry, but the words
come out as sobs. The 5 am grog hits me
what were you talking about. Something
about regrets. The words crushed like a muddled
Caipirinha. I don't care what you have to say
anymore. A rooster's crow's more important
than your voice. I like the taste of bitter
words in my mouth. You scream and plead
and I finally turn the phone off. Shut you
out of my world, breathe easy. The next
morning. I get ten messages from you.
I delete them all. Your brother's texted
me. They found you in a ditch, your car
spun out of control and smashed head
on into the ravine. You died on impact. You
said your final farewell and I didn't listen.
15:17
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