Strange Sour

Was plastered massive in white letters

across a concrete column supporting

the adjoining highway on ramp.

Prime real estate for a tag

whose detailed size silently screams

a person, burdened by their own story,

once stood armed

with spray paint and time.

Traffic always clots here.

Every afternoon, I get stuck

surrounded by strangers

all dreaming of escape.

I sit still, thinking about the artist

who once stood among

highway litter and decomposition

for a time brief enough to paint

what no one can take away -

their name.