It’s no coincidence the Pope
Called up to astronauts in space
The day evangelists had hope
They’d disappear without a trace
As raptured souls to meet their Lord,
Perhaps those soonest, up onboard.
He asked the crew about their work
And how it might encourage peace
But late that evening, like a jerk
I called to ask him by caprice
What else he might have had in mind.
“To ask,” he said, “was Mars aligned.”
“You mean to say, Your Holiness,
“You dabble in astrology?”
“You don’t get where I am unless
“You see the world as others see.”
“Like clouds of rapture all aglow?”
“I’d need to be the first to know.”
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