over city

these brittle
endless
tree-bent streets
rubber to go
on lygon, on brunswick
are overloaded nozzles
bleed basic enamel ink
neon lambs to pita
to spray gutters
in suspicion red,
a white-lined black
and pine mulch
in stencil inversion
our tram evasion
speaks to
bitumen
whispers
at 3am
we
drift
in
merlots