Leah Mueller

Bible Camp Agnostic

We talked about sex at Bible camp: 
three young women, not yet
out of high school, bored out
of our wits in downstate Illinois.

The summer torpor drove us
to seek weird companionship
amongst Christian families—
screaming kids dressed in overalls,
pasty-faced pre-adolescents,
women who wore bras under
their nightgowns at bedtime.

In giggling whispers, the girls
and I discussed baseball terms.
One had already made it
to home plate, at age thirteen.
The other, more bashful,
had reached second base.

I estimated my own progress
as slightly past third.

Midafternoon, dutiful,
we sang songs about Jesus.
The pastor threw his head back,
crooning about Jesus’ arms, how much
he wanted those arms around him. 

I didn’t believe in Jesus,
so my mind always wandered.
I thought of my boyfriend,
and the hardness of his bat.

By the end of the weekend, 
I was best friends with the girls. 
The three of us exchanged
phone numbers before we parted.

We hugged each other, tearful, 
promising to keep in touch,
but, as I should have predicted,
Jesus had other plans.

The first girl had sex with a cop
while she was still underage.

I’m sure my other friend
eventually made it past second,

but something tells me
it was less than what she expected.

At this point, I’m just glad
to swing somebody’s bat,
and I hope somewhere in heaven,
Jesus is swinging his as well.