When everything was beautiful and nothing hurts

Love is the most pleasant moment,

not moving, just dozing in the stillness

of an amorous daze, arms, legs and sacrums

meld together, a living jig-saw puzzle.

Gazing at droplets of rain seeping down

a window pane like amoeba scurrying

toward a cherished mate.

Death is the most unpleasant moment.

Radio alarm clicks on: Vonnegut fell, banged his head

and is now reported to be dead.

War hates bodies…the triumph of absurdity

When good Germans looked the other way

chomping on pig’s knuckles and sauerbraten,

charred bones of the innocent were being

shoveled into the ground.

When vengeful firebombing of Dresden

was unleashed destroying the “Florence

of the Elbe,” Vonnegut saw the slaughter

of the innocent, inspiring the Tralfamadorians,

who saw how permanent all moments are.

Farewell hello, farewell, hello.

Milton P. Ehrlich 199 Christie St. Leonia, N.J.