Church People

There's nothing worse than a bunch of church people

hanging around on the sidewalk on a sunday afternoon.

Some people work on sundays.

Don't they know that?

And now you're part of that crunch crowd yourself

and you're on a mandatory 30 minute break

and you were walking real fast and angry

cause it helps you ruminate on your comeback for that douchebag.

And now there's a bunch of church people standing in little circles, blocking your path —

their faces fresh and neighborly,

their eyes at peace, oblivious.

And you remember from childhood that when church lets out

you have to stand in little circles

while your parents talk to the priest

and you can't say anything.

You can't say anything because the way back part of your mind -—

secret and absurd — 

is telling you that you can't say

"Hey, out of my way" to a church person.

So you stand there

and you look up cause why wouldn't you?

What kind of scumbag wouldn't — if they were stuck there anyway —

look up and admire the facade of a church;

the semicircles and triangles

and all the elegant details within the expert shapes.

And what is that red material that looks so nice when the sunlight strikes it

and makes big New York City feel like your tiny hometown?

And you look up and it's Sunday with a capital S

And you hear the phantom bells

(though it's 2:33 and you are deaf)

and you want for maple doughnuts, the smell of coffee.

And you think about that Raymond Carver story - 

the one about the Cathedral -

and the blind guy could see it better than the guy who could see

and it was very ironic

very satirical

very well done.

And you look up and it's Sunday

and you think

Am I the blind guy or the guy who could see?

Am I the blind guy?

Am I the guy who could see?

And the church people disperse.