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My Graffiti Years
may have begun
when I was a hospital patient
supposedly recovering at home
while My Father visited
& drove Me scheming
to emblazon each of The Town’s public mirrors
with one Gold Emblem
each with the word “God” inscribed
to describe the reflected viewer
Maybe I Should I Have Used Silver Stickers?
There’s powder on My Face
My White Sweat Shirt
over My New Black
Push Up Bra
I put on Black Socks
old jeans that still fit
–
I’m off to shop for The Makings
of Stew
with My Cans still rattling
around
in My Black Escape
–
The Noon Radio News reports
“rising tide levels along coastal regions
& severe weather events
in the coming years.”
gonna bomb dat RJ
shitting on His Rock
gonna lay up My Fire Ball
on dat Emergency Tag
gonna hit every car
every crib, zillions
bomb dis hole fuckin worl
I see The Pink Cloud
that spawned Me
easing its way over
the salty horizon
Oh — now it’s grey
& I’m in The Latter Half
of My Existence
here on Earth
where I can log
& watch
The Sky
I’m having a Graffiti Problem:
Saturday Night I Painted
A Pentagram Star, Red,
with Silver Rays
on A Rock
in My Friend’s Backyard
— She said I could Paint
Anything I Wanted —
She said, “I Love It!”
but now Her 17 year old Daughter
doesn’t Love It
& I’ve been asked
to paint
a starfish
There’s a Rock on The Side of The Road
in Barrington where I shop
It has a Mentalist Red John
which I badly want to deflect
with Silver Star Rays
& maybe Red Dots
–
but on this windy Sunday Morning
as I drive on My Mission
I see a Police Car
coming through The Intersection
of Highway 3 & The Causeway
I turn around
I come home
leaving My Cans of Silver & Red
rattling around on the floor
of My Escape
Me & M’ Bulletproof Vest
DAT AINT NO CONDOM
gonna be wavin’
gots M’ Designer Shades up
gots M’ Kicks
got M’ 22 —
M’ Flo Pen
hawk dem Ghetto Birds
NO HALF STEPPIN
Me & M’ Bulletproof Threads
gonna be struttin’ wid M’ Pilot
gonna put up M’ Burner
bomb M’ Tag
I’M ALL CITY
Joanna Gilman Hyde 