I don’t know about you, but I practice a disorganized religion.
I belong to an unholy disorder.
We call ourselves, “Our Lady of Perpetual Astonishment.”
You may have seen us praying for love on sidewalks
outside the better eating establishments
in all kinds of weather.
Blow us a kiss upon arriving or departing,
and we will climax simultaneously.
It can be quite a scene,
especially if it is raining cats and dogs
Kurt Vonnegut died on April 11. This is a previous unpublished poem.