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.