make love not war

you missed
going to war. it was close.
but the war
was ending
and you were hardly qualified
with your long
hair, your white coat
hypertension
and trick knee.
not to mention your penchant
for wine
and weed, as well as
your pathological
fear of dying
or being maimed in a jungle
by sharp objects.
you were only nineteen,
but hardly a good match,
the army and you.
green is not your color
to begin with.
you'd be a general by now,
you imagine, or
an admiral with your own
fleet of ships,
which might have been fun,
traveling the world,
still wearing your bell
bottoms and getting
a nice tan up
on deck with mary lou
a second lieutenant.