The Wages Of Sin

A late night deposit

  from my spirit to my soul

 

A transfer without interest

  all currency stole

 

The bank’s main door won’t open,

  the drive-thru is dark

 

The side door unlocked

  with the hallway unmarked

 

The clerk’s eyes on fire,

  as she asks me my name

 

“It’s there on the check”

  I repeat in refrain

 

“Your last transaction I see,

  we’ll be losing you now

 

“This account to be closed

  —take the elevator down”

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

 

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