They thought their gods drowned. But they were alive. They were seated deep in the oceans, marinating like overnight Thanksgiving turkey. They were whistling through the cotton fields. They were creeping through the swamps. They were cooking in the sizzling oil and rising in the grilling smoke in the backyard. They were dancing through the dust of freshly sieved flour in the kitchen. They will find their way to the streets on all coasts. They never died.