Cracker Jacks

Brahmic gods and prophets with ancient masks
Draw maps for an unseen journey.
We trace our lives on tissue paper,
Marking ourselves with pencil smudges.
We’ve read the constellations for their answers,
While writing ourselves among them.
I watched a burning man spark a ravenous blue flame

As shamans rattle their revealing bones and promise we will be consumed.
Lovers write headlines in a desperate attempt to solidify a faux-romantic ideology.
I knew Prufrock before he was famous
And heard the mermaids sing his duets.
Allah and Yaweh promise a paradise
Obscured by a blurred utopian vision.

I found heaven in a box of Cracker Jacks.
I thought it would be bigger.

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