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I Am Santo

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a beaten up 'private property' sign in from of graffitied concrete blockade
iPhone 5 shot
Go ahead. Blockade with weak words and expect obedience. Your demands are cinnamon, sprinkled carelessly over concrete and steel, a pretty invitation to desecration; a saccharine protest lost in the swirl of hasty decision. You need the unswayed, lusting for the emboldened to chase down your precious bounty, but truth reveals emptiness of purpose. No one will tread with heavy steps through your protest. No one fears consequence. Light footed, the unafraid scale your dismal heights, paying no mind to warning and breaking your stone arc with a twist of the wrist, a bend of the hip, a leap of disregard. Artful in defiance, the day’s fading light calls no attention, and in this golden end a journey renews.

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