“Atlanta” by Eliza Calvo

Pixie dust. A bum tried selling me a gateway
at the CVS. Ironic of course.
Ah, the steep hills. It’s not Beverly though.
Streets that had holes as big as the
U.S. immigration system.

The streets were kissed prudently by culture.
Places that reminds us what defines Jazz-
where different skins dance together
to the trumpets, keys, and optimistic tunes
while drinking and smoking cigarettes.

Electronic meets Improvisation.
The unity of two music genres in the Tabernacle.
No dress codes. No fucks given.
A place where strangers can drink beer
in the same plastic cup.

Home of the Coca Cola beverage.
This is where happiness begins they say.
Where narcissistic nationalists have tried
the beverages of other countries,
finding happiness in every different flavor.

It is certainly a culture shock,
to be in a city that makes you
believe that you have seen the world,
forgetting that America is your