God, I walked down
The whole neighborhood
Today in search of you,
I window shopped
Through people's houses,
Buying nothing
But hope and
Christmas spirit.
I finally reached
The place they say
Your soul resides.
Sat down and had
A conversation
With myself
It sounded more
Like an argument.
I felt out of place.
I don’t think you
Were present there,
Maybe more
In the sniff
Of my cold nose,
Or the reflection
Of holiday lights
On puddles in the street
Warm light bending
Across cold water.
The frost on my breath
Lingered longer
Than your presence did.
Maybe you’re not
In sanctuaries or sermons,
But in the faint glow
Of string lights
Through fire place windows,
Or in the sudden warmth
Of a stranger’s smile
The kind that disappears
As quickly as it came.
Still, the cold crept in,
Needling through my jacket
As I walked back home,
Hands empty.
What a scam.