Out on hwy. 61 (an old poem)

They made the old Shop-Ko
into a church, now waiting in
line for the Eucharist, now

purchasing a brand new life
that wasn’t made somewhere
in China. This church may

never go out of business, as
long as there is a harried
mother who brings in her

toddlers, screaming for 
forgiveness, screaming with
spirit and pushing her cart,

the ones the women of 
Jerusalem used selling baskets,
selling scarves. The temples

are now over-turned, the money-
lenders from Shop-Ko, now
it is a place of worship again.

This is what Jesus wanted,
the capitalists turning to saints,
like Paul. This is the place where

if you lay your money down,
the road rises up in gold.
This is where they have a 

change of heart, shopping for 
believers, for an empty soul, 
shopping for less and less junk.