Athens (Georgia & Greece)

photo by arantxa villa

Athens (Georgia & Greece)

by grad student jake head

An ode to my last spring in this city 

Prince in the spring air is the most joyful Avenue in this city. At a stoplight, Marjorie and James kiss each other with passion. In the field next to the rosy fire hydrant, I rescue a soccer ball and shock put it back to you. In the veranda, John Taylor’s mother is making a toast to new memories and days gone by. I join in on the toast from the sidewalk, staring into the kitchen window, sauntering away in my worn sandals when they notice my gaze. Dogwood petals cascade into the street; Georgia’s only snow this year.

Listen, Listen James—someone is ringing the church bell in celebration! Several other people are walking, multiplying, marching down the Avenue, crying to their cousins, chanting to their superiors on the telephone!

Listen! I am focused on my heels and toes; I am avoiding the vibration in my back pocket. God is in movement, in motion, in the promenade, in the waves crashing against the dock, in the embrace I give to my brother, in the tension of my hamstring, in the shimmering leaves of olive trees and the apocrypha;

Grace: it is your name and a terrifying concept. Do you remember standing at the ancient, cracked alter; feeling the spirit of worship embedded in the roots of the mountain? The dry soil is made of the rotted flesh of honest revelers and inebriated prophetesses. In Autumn, we sat under Grecian leaves and the Appalachian sun; Love, also known as god (also known as movement), makes itself known in every commotion on the mountain. I drew the most magnificent landscape of it all last night. It looked like shit when I took it out of my bookbag this morning.