The Ashtray Poem by Tim George

My parents were WEIRD and so was I.
My dad was about 5’6”, Greek, a telephone lineman, and sometimes
Professional wrestler.
My mother was about 5’10”, German, a telephone operator, and
Sometimes my best friend.

Back then (the 50's) the man was ALWAYS supposed to be taller
Than his female-ask Alan Ladd or Dale Robertson.

But my dad or maybe one of his siblings found this pewter ashtray
That addressed this social peculiarity.

Where your cigerette was supposed to rest was between the bosom of a tall lady dressed formally (an evening gown) and beside her was a short and squat man with his left arm draped around her 'waist'...
Kinda like a photograph.

But when you turned the ashtray OVER you saw that the squat man
Had his left hand stuck under the ladies' dress in the ole classic
Goose routine.

It got a lotta laughs in West Covina.......

Years later my mother (after a contentious and dibilitating divorce)
Asked me (her oldest son) to be her 'Best Man' at her second shot
At a marriage. I was drunk and 15 and running with hormones and
Not sure what America meant or what 'the family' meant or what
Reality was or could be or what the hell my MOM was doing and
I GOOSED her!

Right in the ole crotch.
Right in the essence.
Right IN HER FACE
(so to speak...........l) .

She said 'When I get back, boy, I am going to THROTTLE you!
When she got back
I was me.......