sunday morning fragments

an early sunday morning
drinking coffee
paper writing
nytimes reading

girls sit to my right
passionate about god
jesus, church
and emo punk rock.

their passion is a reminder
of how mine burned out
i think i'm happier
but i recognize a void
i blink back tears

i feel no regret
for the decisions i've made
or the person i've become

yet
sometimes
i miss church
i miss passion
i miss god
i miss purpose

but as these girls talk
their passion for god
becomes a passion for
gossip
thinly veiled hate
for that girl, with that boy
and that all encompassing love
that christian christian love
swiftly becomes selective

and i remember why
i am where i am
where the passion went
where i banished god to

and instead i focus ahead of me
to a fat, bearded
suspender wearing
santa claus of a man
gripping four highlighters
different colors
different meanings
and colors his book