Monica Cure

I'm Not a Generous Person

but I didn’t question it
when my grandmother
would give me a dollar
to put in the collection plate,
certain the money counted
as mine and just as certain
as the organ reverberated
and the usher approached our row
that I couldn’t pocket it.
This Sunday I found a leu
on the ground, cathedral-side
up, at the entrance to Cismigiu.
I hadn’t dropped it
in my purse yet, had barely
passed the old men playing
chess, when I heard
an accordion—a man
on a bench by himself.
La Valse d'Amelie.
He could’ve been
playing anything.