Albino Village

This is a poem about a supposedly real place I read about in a book.

You can find Albino Village

on a dead-end street, through

a giant tunnel of stone, you

know you're getting close when

you see the stuffed dolls hung

on ropes, you will feel like you're

not alone, greeted with baseball

bats, and harpoons

When you drive down this road

it never seems to end

Avoid Ghost Mountain at all

costs my friend! They will try

to steal your children by throwing

rock salt

There is no way in or out

Windowless houses made

of concrete or glass

They keep mud or leaves in

their baths