Im drunk and I wrote a poem. Just remember even Hawkeye would agree that martinis are only good when they’re as dry as Gods tears.
My father loved watching M*A*S*H
As a child I’d catch him watching it in our living room
long after I was supposed to go to bed
He and Hawkeye would have a martini after
their long days trying to save people
and my dad would watch stories that came out in
the 1950’s of his childhood
the 2000’s of my childhood.
with a moral man disguised as a jester
sitting in the blue glow of the empty couch
laughing along with Radar and Trapper John;
just another one of the guys
What did those martinis mean to him in
when he traveled through time using a glass fronted box
to share a drink with a man
sneaking glimpses of the 4077th M*A*S*H
I too can share a drink with that man on screen
I too can travel through time
But I can only share a drink with
a man who looked like my father
down to the gray black hair
I can only share a martini with the man
who shared my father’s sense of humor;
they liked both dry and with olives
Through a fictitious real war
I’m spending time with my father
I laugh at all the places my father does
I cry at all the places my father does
separate me and Hawkeye from
the real man so obviously
influenced by the hero on screen
with me and the man who looks
so much like him that I have to do
and the mischievous smirk on his face?
It looks too much like my father’s;
there’s no real guessing where he got it from
to impart humor and wisdom
to teach my father to be the kind of man
I could sit down and have a martini with
No amount of time or time travel
could lead to me sharing a martini
in a 1970’s Hollywood backlot
acting like the kind of man
my father so obviously wanted to be
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