One of the things
I love most
About the northbound train
Is the art
That gives life
To the tracks.
While the river bends,
Cities light up,
Buildings crumble,
The graffiti, it speaks;
It says I’m not allowed,
But I belong.
While the factories smoke,
Churches point upward,
Lotto billboard pops,
The graffiti, it shouts;
It says I take risks
To be heard.
While the bridges arch,
Traffic stands still,
Telephone lines wrap,
The graffiti, it raps;
It’s says what may be dark
Is also colorful.
While the junkyard piles up,
No trespassing signs warn,
Comedy shows advertised,
The graffiti, it weeps;
It says time will heal,
But I will not forget you.
I am merely passing through
This fine cultural gallery
Generations felt worth painting.
Appreciating the pretty concrete,
Imagining the stories
Of lovers, fighters and punks
Still begging to be expressed.
Wondering what bold message
I would moss spray
If I got off at the next station
To tag what’s in my heart.