Oh, Atlanta
This has been surreal, to say the leastThe past four years in the city they call
"The Peach of the South" have been a roller coaster
However, its better compared to one of those rides
where the to and fro movements are simulated.
I have been the solitary rider strapped in,
buckled down, checked and re-checked
by the acne stricken high school student
who spills out a memorized cheesy intro
(that he has apparently recited a thousand times)
before he shuts me in and the lights go dim.
The teenager then presses the start button
then dashes for the exit for a quick smoke.
I make this attraction the poetic representation
of my truly "magical" experiences, dark or otherwise,
because during the thrill ride the ascents and descents
were merely illusions created by an autonomic machine
Man made to fool the mind with smoke and mirrors.
I never had the celebrated ups in reality even though
by keeping my eyes glued to the monitor,
I felt as if I were actually traveling upward.
Logic and common sense has taught me well
that I haven't left the secure comforts of the ground
Nor have I gone outside the enclosure of the ride
that begins to close in on me, maybe part of the show?
Tighter and tighter, its getting very difficult to breathe.
I realize that no one else is to blame
for the wasted ticket I purchased outside the gate
or for the wasted time I obviously spent
strolling through the line that ended up being a maze,
an intricate and endless maze winding for miles.
The funny thing is I should have known better.
While traversing through the path of velvet ropes,
I saw I was the only patron silly enough to attend.
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