Anyone who traveled with Mitch Ludwig
Knew about the shrapnel in his ass
It was from Vietnam
A Marine
Two tours
And a Purple Heart
A man who lived
But had to watch his friends die
Those metal detectors
At the airport
They would get him every time
The smiles and laughs
From TSA
Only a charmer like Mitch
Could make the TSA laugh
Mitch was the center
Of everything
I flew all over the country with him
Watched him work his magic
We’d walk the halls of the Pentagon
Or Langley
Could never get very far
Govvies and contractors alike
Tripping over themselves to shake hands
With Mitch Ludwig
He brought me along
To show off the technology
But my job was easy
Because Mitch had already closed the deals
With his outsized personality
Starch pressed shirts
Finely fitted suits
Red ties
Always red ties
Clean shaven
And bald as a cue ball
Mitch was the Daddy Warbucks
Of Washington, DC
He had this innocence
Or at least he’d fake it
He’d make an off-color joke
Then grab the end of his red tie
And gently pass it across his lips
As if he was wiping his mouth clean
Three vasectomies
And two reversals!
He would always tell me
I’m still not sure why
But on weekends he’d pilot his yacht
Down the Potomac
Jam packed
With fifty of his closest friends
He’d drop anchor
And we’d tumble overboard
Stand in the silt
Water up to our tits
A shitty American beer in each hand
And not a care in the world
Somehow Mitch would reel us all back in
And pilot the yacht to a seafood shack
Now the fifty had become a hundred
A dozen blue crabs per person
And pitchers filled with more shitty beer
For hours
Nah it was all fucking night
We’d drink beer
And pick these tiny blue crabs
The Old Bay getting all up in our fingernails
And the corn on the cob, ignored
No one ever saw a bill
Or threw down a dime
Mitch always took care of it
Daddy Warbucks style
Then one day Mitch Ludwig
Blew his fucking brains out
No one will ever know exactly why
But does anyone really have to ask?
Because when I think about Vietnam
And Iraq
And Afghanistan
And everything
I wonder
Mitch loved his life
And was loved by his family
And me
And hundreds of others
That was clear
But if our country
And its leaders
Thought so little of his life
To send him off to die in a quagmire
In a war we knew we wouldn’t win
Then maybe suicide was Mitch’s way
Of taking control
Of his own life
Of his own destiny
Because Mitch didn’t die for his country
Mitch died for Mitch
On his terms
The way he wanted
And if our country
Put Mitch in this position
Why should anyone question his choice?
