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Roadside Crucifixes

Roadside crucifixes,
Bleaching incandescent,
Glowing, all September long.
True, the dead rise early,
But they have nowhere else
To roam around these days.
Hell is too gentrified,
Heaven is a share time
Advertised in doujin
Ezekiel never wrote.
Seven steps, eight maybe,
Is all they can afford
To lease around their grave.
Amber marigold vendors,
Hyped-up, cheapened folklore.
Their petals shine no path
To Disneyfied Mictlan,
Sugar skull NFTs,
PTO rendered null
Due to staff shortages.
Purchase a smile instead,
Trade your phone for their jokes.
Mercury is handy
When booze no longer hits.
Roadside crucifixes,
Bleaching incandescent,
Glowing, all September long.

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