Isn’t It Bromantic

He slaps my back and I slap his: we’re bros
Who talk and talk so seriously for hours
And then a look is passed: I know he knows,
And giggles overwhelm like April showers.
But when these showers pass, we’re in a field
Alive with every rainbow hue and bloom –
We’re drunk, of course – but then these pictures yield
To smoky battlefields where bombs kaboom.
My bromance with this guy is getting hot –
We’re heroes in the combat of the strong,
When shrapnel hits the ever tender spot
Within his heart where both our hearts belong.
This scene’s the best in any real bromance:
He’s dying in my arms – it’s our best chance.