Sometimes I wonder if God tires of repeat
performances of human drama with changes
of actors. Like the self-imagined hero who reads
the Iliad in comic book form and tempts danger
by Trojan tactics at a party of enemies who
recite the epic by heart for fun and substitutes
a pinata for the horse. Does God peek through
fingers and wince the way i would or (being astute
and omniscient) calmly observes, looking for ways
to salve the whack wounds after the last adieu
of the party-goers. Eons pass and better days
and yet we don the mask and strut on stage anew.
And what God waits for we question and fret
And somewhere another Odysseus isn't home yet.
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