POEM: montreal graffiti

i

i

skeletons of future self reflect

thick off brick, marks trick

questions, carves writings in

sensible script

 i

primitive thinking, remarks a

new topic, able to sweat tropic

stopped at

two doors, one left sideways

brick scabs over concrete alleyways

between playful graffiti

wheat paste can’t see me.

In search of sovereignty

recolonizing the city

with paint and a flashlight

to rewrite night’s insight

lights piercing a proverb

i

leaving a trail of caps and cans

a snapped cigarette,

a black sneaker

take a peek at her,

capture girls in the street lights

ones with skirts that squeeze

right,

an unframed portrait

unable to fit

on gallery walls,

all that’s left is ephemeral masterpieces

across a sea of concrete

a humble feat for street philosophers

a black tablet and I’m just trying to keep

up with the readings

 i

boarded up windows are misleading

eyes beading out between cracks

looking for stacks, finding forever on

rusting train tracks

the space is still ours

after a washing the writings are painted back

 i

they’re always painted back

i

i

i

Poem and photography by Whitney French (c) 2012