I stood there,
5'11 in secondhand shoes,
by the gate, house of god,
in the sun-drenched midday;
She drove up and parked,
as the bells rang out,
in her stainless sliver car,
newer then her leopard print hat
covering her white hair,
she approached me like a shadow,
twisted and hunting,
I stood there
by my red bucket full of change;
I did not wish her a 'good' morning,
instead just morn',
she walked up without saying a word,
but then,
when she was as close as she could get,
she said in the falsest of tone and substance,
'Good morning' and walked on,
the bucket, no fuller then before,
she walked in,
I doubt she could even spell cerebral palsy.

-Jamie F. Nugent