making change

as a child
sitting in church,
sweating, knees aching
as I knelt, stood up,
sat down,
sang, chanted, etc.
i thought about the collection
basket
and how i needed
to make change for a five
a lincoln seemed too much.
the mass wasn't
as good as it
usually was.
I wasn't as scared or lost,
or trembling
like normal
sundays, even the incense was
thin, hardly burning
my eyes and throat,
but I had to put
something in.
two dollars seemed about
right,
and I could use the other
three to stop
off at the Rexall
drugstore on the way home
to read comics
at the counter and drink
cherry cokes
while eating a grilled
cheese sandwich.
the steel eyed old man
though holding the basket
saw right through me
as I reached in
for three ones,
and shook his head no.
it almost seemed like he'd
been down this road before.