Old Worship

My body is a temple:
I'm thinking maybe to Dionysus, thinking really old,
thinking maybe nobody worships here any more since the roof came in and the frieze fell off.
Sometimes hippies jump the fence and party all night,
leaving stogies, and cans,
the odd pair of underpants
and an old sneaker.

So come worship in the old ways. We don't need a roof,
the climate is good.