southern Atheist belle

never did like the southern accent,

no matter how gorgeous the lady was

whose mouth it was coming out of---

always had a preference for the

NYC toughness or the sophisticated-

car-commercial-intense

langue des Londoniens

&

to be truthful, it wasn’t the accent

but the christ that bubbled out from the

mouths of every individual he

encountered whilst sweltering in

the haze of Tennessee or

the stale hot of Texas &

yet, in retrospect,

he wondered if the drawl was something

that might be spiced up with a bit of

Atheism---

that is to say that if a bodacious GRITS, a

statuesque sweet potato queen,

was sitting in a café or perhaps

standing next to a pool table in

the local dive &

rather than quoting scripture or

babbling about the baby jesus,

asking what church one belonged to

or fondling the 18 karat crucifix

tied round her neck (how young sexy

christian thangs flirt)

when come upon by a strapping

young interested lad,

she changed things up a bit

by saying “yew know, gawd is dead.”---

this would be a wondrous occasion.