Graffiti Me


Photo: Creative Commons

Photo: Creative Commons


in heightened instants

like the realization that the earth is moving

I see words


not in my head

but in the air

on the ground


whereas words emit images for most

images emit words for me

a sort of moving graffiti


busy floats around an impatient driver

linear abuts a business building

lonely whirs past a BMW on the freeway


summer attaches itself to leaves of a eucalyptus

caution drops from birds perched on light posts

momentary sits atop my breakfast


though I saw words for as long as I can remember

I thought others could read the air like me

but no one else could see what I could


there were words I didn’t know at the time

like commitment – there it hovered on a park bench

I thought others saw it too, but they couldn’t


reading in school was laborious at best

twice the words jumped from pages

and no one who asked understood my meaning


now most are logical associations

but there are other relationships that some would find strange

opaquely paired words and things


mandamus with books of good fiction

butterscotch with playgrounds

pareidolia with churches


I only see them at the right time

like fireflies, they flash but then are gone

only alive in synesthesia


yet when I recall those objects and places and times

the words are absent from my memory

leaving only an afterglow


though I escape the graffiti in my mind’s tunnels and shadows

I look in a mirror and words are everywhere

and I am always graffiti


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Where one writer and observer of the human condition shares what she's reading, writing, and thinking...

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