god died on a payday

god died on a payday

he drowned in the deluge of

sweaty Pabst and boiling

ice cream. buried in coals, he

turned to ash, cast upward by

heat waves, assimilating into

the wash of the thick milky blue.

dead god lays in the meat of our

necks, sweat out through

weekend shirts, dripped onto the

cooked concrete. he is frozen

in carefree lowered A/C, he is forgotten

by boisterous tales and fuzzy clacking teeth

until Monday morning, when

the carton’s last cigarette is stubbed

out in the damp early grass,

He rises with the wet smoke.

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