Anatol Zukerman

I was sitting in the bar, nursing a headache,

and a dollar whispered “In God we trust.”

 

“Look who is talking!” I gagged,

“You double-crossing slithering snake!

God kicked you out of His good temple

and you have a nerve to lie in His name!”

 

“He threw me out,” admitted the dollar.

“And for that he died on the cross.

He’s up in the sky, I’m here on Earth -

we work together just fine, thank you.

People use me to steal and murder

and him to repent and to do it again.”

 

“You, creeping son of a dirty bastard!

I don’t kill and steal if you have to know!”

 

“Then use me to pay for your beer,”

 

he said. “I’ll use you for something else,”

I answered. I folded the dollar in two,

Set it on fire and lit my cigar.

The dollar shrunk in a spit of ash,

I put my feet on a chair and smiled.

“In God we trust,”

I heard the same whisper -

A brand-new dollar lay in the ash tray

And President Washington laughed in my face.