MY SILENCE HAS ALL THE BEST LINES

the crude graffito bites
and my mind's eye ;
to bonsai the Venus trap -
becomes the fly
on the gall... where cinder blocks
crop my stroll with an odd
wall. 
and i stare at the industrial
pittance of delinquent scrawl
punk spittal blistering
the bland strip mall.
i ponder the grit
and the feral tits of the blue nymph
with no bra. her two left hands
harassing her cannon balls.
a can of spray 
where paint had been
now at my feet
faint and spent. just seen
as i stepped back...
i verify it's emptiness
by the tenor 
of it's
clack.

i walk away 
savoring the irony 
of just 
that.