I’m walking Wednesday morning to the train
with thoughts about religion in my head,
distracting me from periodontal pain
by contemplating what I’ve lately read,
and disapproving more the more I’ve learned
of organized religion. As a Jew
I’ve kept the culture – it’s belief I spurned –
and now I know me wise before I knew.

It isn’t that I’m watching for a sign
(except I look around me as a rule)
but when I pass the Quaker church, a line
appears upon their board. I’d be a fool
if I ignored its message: reading top-
to-bottom, it’s an ad for loving pot.

11 AM  Sunday      Worship
5 PM                        Pot           Luck