Graffiti Guys by Alyson Faye
Here’s me and Dom
spray cans in hand,
strutting around town
in the post-midnight land.
Our world’s full of
underpasses and ubers,
concrete’s our canvas,
searching for that special wall,
which shouts to us
where we can create
our dream scape.
No way council funded,
‘cos we got chucked outta school,
no Art ‘A’ levels for us two.
We got the time and
we’ve got the talent
in our cans,
in our hands.
Me, I do abstract.
Dom’s thing is faces
empty-eyed skulls,
like his mum on valli
and his Dad on whack.
We spray what
we see and know.
There’s no bloody
GCSE for our
life skills though.
