Cat’s CradleKurt VonnegutContents

92. On the Poet’s Celebration of His First Boko-maru

These are not Bokonon’s words. They are mine.

Sweet wraith,
Invisible mist of . . .
I am—
My soul—
Wraith lovesick o’erlong,
O’erlong alone:
Wouldst another sweet soul meet?
Long have I
Advised thee ill
As to where two souls
Might tryst.
My soles, my soles!
My soul, my soul,
Go there,
Sweet soul;
Be kissed.

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