False Gods

Do these people really believe
that they will never die?
These grimacing
runners and joggers
that fill the parks and sidewalks
every Sunday morning
instead of the hard wood pews
of local churches.
You know the ones I mean;
with their vacant eyes
and designer shoes and sweats.
The misguided ones
trying so hard
to take such good care of
their outsides.
What will these folks do when,
sooner or later,
they finally meet their maker
and are asked
for an accounting of their life;
about lessons learned,
or good works done?
About honesty and ethics?
About love?
Will they try to present muscles
smooth and hard,
or numerous plastic credit cards
and cold cash?
Surely, the Gods must
be rolling on the floor, laughing.