Apathy (Our Lady of Perpetual Help)

Tonight I taste recycled air in the library walls sighing around me. I am writing essays deleting each word carefully and replacing them with new ones, better, I hope, for clarity's sake. My car waits outside, a red dog, patient and shivering in the cold. The desk graffiti urges me to know God who knows me and knows what I am thinking now. What am I thinking now, God?