Bible Burning Iv Poem by Morgan Michaels

'Once they get your deposit, there's no end of their 'little charges'. Pretty soon you're twenty-thousand in hock. And still no divorce.
He stirred the embers with a stick and began to feed the flames with the Gideons as if they were lobsters at a clam-bake. Then he lit a cigarette. His face was deeply scarred. He was missing two fingers of his right hand, which he used, anyway.
'No wonder', I thought. 'But the poor bibles. All that gold leaf'.
'Would you like to burn one', he said suddenly.
'Absolutely not'!
'Ah c'mon'.
'Well, maybe just one', I returned. Anything to be agreeable.
I picked up a Gideons' and laid it carefully on, thinking of my 'friends' and prepared to jump back. I must admit, nothing happened, though I won't say it felt good.
I sighed and looked around. Times Square had never looked more beautiful. There was nothing I could do to convince him of the depth of his depravity. So I took out my cell-phone, which has a hidden camera, and took a picture. Then I radioed my driver. Headquarters would get a full report.