I’m sorry I don’t go to your house anymore
and that people haven’t been sending as many prayers
perhaps there’s a bad reception
you could invest in a landline, but why would you care?

And I’m sorry I don’t donate to the homeless
or the starving children on TV
you, on the other hand, are doing an excellent job
giving that little boy cancer and not me

The boy who can’t even say words yet
with an oxygen tank taller than he is
his father raising the insurance policy
his mother fingering your necklace

I’m just glad it’s the important people who are blessed
like the pretender with the golden statue
or the ball thrower with the double digits on his chest

And so I’m sorry I don’t go to your house anymore
there must’ve been a little angry little bald man
sleeping in the pews
choking me with his blue necktie
telling me what to do.