Reflection in the Dark

 

In the dark, in the rain, 

between warehouses, 

two teens duck into the shadows

as I turn the corner. 

 

My headlights reflect

off the rattle cans

in their back pockets.

 

I stop them.

 

Have a seat.

 

They sit.

 

"What did we do?"

 

Hand over the paint.

 

Each pulls out a can.

 

Out taggin’?

 

"We were goin' ta."

 

I pat them down:

no sketch books, no gloves, 

their hands are cleans,

the nozzles aren't tacky. 

There's no new graffiti in area. 

 

You're lucky. I caught you

before you committed a crime.

 

I confiscate the cans

and send them on their way.

 

 

Comments

[Lt]

You know, I've come to have a certain amount of respect for a talented tagger. I'd make the pinch all the same, but still recognize the talent.

p.s. I love the imagery at the beginning of this post.

[Sister Copinherhair]

My son said to me the other day, "Mama, come over here. There is something written on this pole."

"Yeah, don't read that. Let's go."

;)

Nice work, RD.