by Steven Rodriguez

When standing in the shampoo aisle,
assaulted by the smell of imitation fruit basket upset
I crave the lack of choice
of a god who might determine my freedom.

I do not put a figurine above the hearth
but I Instagram my devotions
I, Instagram
Our idols are no longer solid
they are Photoshop filters
coloring everything with stolen nostalgia
for someone else’s pre-Christian Rome.

But the old gods are dead
and underneath the Lego-Batman-Disney-Star Wars-Marvel-Cinematic-Wreckage™
we creep our consumer choices, millipedes content to hunt mammals in tunnels.

Flip any computer-generated plot inside out
and you will find nothing but nothing.
After we click “purchase,” there is only the faint odor of gunpowder
where our choice, once fired, no longer exists.
Idolatry is: my will graven onto the darkness with a sparkler.

Who will rescue me from this bodiless death?

Steven Rodriguez is a minister of the Reformed Church in America, serving as the pastor of Lakeview Community Church (RCA) in Greece, New York. You can follow him on Twitter @smarcorodriguez.