Outdoor couches adorn
Wrap around porch houses
Where old folks sit
In felted feathers and morning sweat
The street is a stage
To watch the world, unfurl before them

Abandoned houses with “stop work” plaques
Sit like ghost village shacks
Dangling electrical wires
Swinging like forest vines
In this concrete jungle

Nocturnal Co2 emissions
Mosquitoes on reconnaissance missions
To **** your jugular
To shed the blood of the covenant
Payback for the horrors in history
In the American South

This is Atlanta

An old woman hobbles
Down the craggily sidewalk
Long, gray dreads like Voodoo
“ali ali wei boomah!!!”
She hisses as you walk by
Leaving you wondering if she
Just placed a curse on your life
But you just keep walkin’ on

As if you weren’t cursed
As if each step
Each drop of sweat
Weren’t planning their revenge

This is Atlanta