The Mysteries of Faith

I’d spend my last five bucks on an Almond Joy
for my girlfriend. Or some gas station trinket
I don’t need like a car air freshener

or an ice scraper or a lighter with the Rolling Stones
logo on it, looking like a tattoo.

Once the money was gone I’d hum a song
and loiter by the case of washer fluid
not thinking twice about it.

Not because I’m generous or selfless.
I’m hardly a monk. Because I’ll always be broke.

Even though I hide wads of cash
under corners of ripped-up carpet,
above basement ceiling drop tile like my father,
I’ll never get into the black.

How can I not have faith? I still believe
the next candy bar, toy, or beer

will finally be the one that makes me feel good.

Richard Gegick hails from Trafford, PA. WPA Press published his first full-length poetry collection, Greasy Handshakes, in 2019. Richard’s poetry and fiction have appeared in 86 Logic, Chiron Review, Gulf Stream, and many other periodicals. A 16-year service industry veteran, Richard lives in Pittsburgh’s North Side neighborhood where he tends bar and freelances.