groundhog day

I wish I were Banksy and had a distinctive stencilling technique that could mark up walls and bridges and tiny doors with my troubled mind and shredded heart. I would be emotional Banksy instead of political Banksy. I would make a huge montage of my love on the wall where you buy your big coffee at 9am. I could rush out in the dark and leave breadcrumbs for you to find when the sun announced my secrets. I would just sit in a 500 year old pub somewhere and drink bitter in the day time and the world would keep pumping through the streets.

Little kids walking with fists of sweets and doctors telling people they will live and firemen all over the world battling flames of the human condition. Teachers in classrooms thinking of marital problems and old people high on pharmaceuticals. Sad waitresses wearing yesterday's underwear and workers in small cubicles plotting the overthrow of their lives. Bankers touching all the money and people running scared away from each other like heart attack rabbits. It would go on like this- minus me as I slowly got hammered, slouched over a wooden booth. Alone.

If I were Banksy I would buy a large car and fill it with my paints and things. I would buy a map and all over your town I would announce myself. Over and over again. Like a vandal. Like a groundhog painted blue.