Donut Church Cafe

The Donut Church Cafe absorbs its patrons,
infuses them with a shopping center faithiness
in God and coffee and convenience.
The corner booth corrals its transient flocks
who squeeze in past each other's thoughts
and the disheveled newsprint,
this morning's headlined scriptures;
they hope to talk enough to change the world,
note their blogs, call it a day.
The walkers
pace across the storefront's windows,
watch the weather for no reason,
panhandle schemes for spare change truth
from passing strangers,
at least enough to buy a burger,
as if they would really eat it.
And from the street scan parking lot
for clues of who may be inside,
cast our imagined dice at those
we presume make their home
among this riff-raff clergy who
sell each other designer brands
of their recycled dogmas
salvaged from the discard bins
of actual, thinking souls.
My head wags at wasted lives
as these clueless activists,
blind archeologists without credentials
who dig inside their gourmet brews
for insight;
I watch them with chagrin
and hate myself.

Copyright (c) 2008 Gary Brown
STATEMENT/QUESTION:
When internally evaluating the world, what roles do sarcasm or cynicism play?