My Sundays

Where I am supposed to be is
Where they want me
But I don't want me there

I will worship the gods
Of surf wax and sunburn
Pray on the Bible of my 9-foot Pacific style
And burn candles for a decent set.

Blue skies and ocean
Preach nothing more than
Clarity, peace

They know I can't be like them
Can't pull myself together for early morning service and
brunch with the family

I am where I need to be
Might as well give up on me now
Because no matter where I go when I die
I will still have lived.