A man

Scratches Poesis onto a whiteboard

In a suburban church.

.

Alcohol dripping from the marker.

.

Instead of listening to his lecture

A woman sketches my profile

Onto blue paper with kid craft black chalk.

.

She gives me a pointy nose.

.

I sit sizing up the schemas sculpted

By the mouths of those who hold scripture

Like I hold this sweaty metallic banknote.

.

The collection plate is being passed around.

.

My mind pauses its internal debate to hear man’s final refrain:

Something about allocating free space in my day

To contemplate grace and its relation to my fate.