She developed a taste for gin martinis late in life.
The odds were against it.
She drank some wine, no beer, little liquor
(her favorite mixed drink was a mudslide),
but then, one day, practically straight up goddamn gin
was her relaxation cocktail.
Unfurl the blanket, recline the recliner,
sip and doze off during procedural dramas,
stirring alert during commercial breaks and requesting
a synopsis of missed interrogations or trials.

It seems simple, but that is the tableau I recall,
night after night,
each scene with slight changes to procedural or pajamas.
I would stand in the hallway watching the shows
or watching the watchers,
but idly,
expecting the heat death of the universe
before the end of network television.

Towards the end, I remember one show
about a modern-day cop who woke up in 1970.
It was cancelled a few episodes in. Just like that.

Tonight, I am drinking a gin martini and attempting to time travel.
Sometimes it works.
Sometimes it works when I wish it wouldn’t.