I quit on a Thursday.
Left my key on the old woman’s desk.
She used to email me saying,
“There’s a stone on the RUG.”
And test me, leaving dimes in strange places. 

It wasn’t her fault.
Everyone grasps at power.
Hers came out in small ways.
Like emails and dimes. 

After two weeks, I went back.
“We’re glad to see you!” the office ladies sang.
“Dorothy prayed you would return,” one said.

I bet she did.
The church pews were full of bits of food.
Urinal cakes cut down to a sliver.
Waste bins taken over by half-burnt candles.
Jesus all covered in dust. 

I started on mopping the floor.
Lifting my face to feel the sun through the stained glass.
Feeling alright about being able to pay the electric bill.

The ladies still leave pamphlets for me.
They think one day I’ll convert.
Dimes still hide in corners and behind bins.

But I laugh inside.
I don’t believe in their religion.
Love doesn’t look like that to me.
But I do believe in their money.
Guess it’s all the same to them.