Carnival Man

Shiva, God of Destruction, plays pinball all day long.
Thor, lightning-bringer, pushed a cart down Seventh Avenue.
Qetzocoatl, serpent in the corn, holds a ladder for a sales associate, peeking up her skirt.
All the old gods are like this, wasting away their days in trivial pursuits or mundane labor.
As religions die, the gods live on, shining your shoes. Filling your wine glass, begging for spare change.
Dagon is a home hospice worker, caring for his last believer.
One too many pills, and he is finally free.
There’s a carnival he’s always wanted to join.
He packs a bag, turns out the lights, and walks out the door, whistling.