#look up
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the bridge over the train tracks was walled with graffiti.
lookup, it scrawled to loiterers,
lookup, like your mother’s voice screaming to not jump.
I liked to imagine some roguish skater boy spritzing the words on,
a boy with paint-chipped fingertips; a bouquet
of aerosol cans hanging from his back pocket,
just so a stranger would feel less alone.
lookup, he pleaded. ironically, really,
as I was already
skybound.
graffiti//r.t.
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