The Graffiti.

Grace
changing her name to Gavin
slowly deleted his graffiti. The authorities crudely
had criticised his grammar as grandiloquent.
Didn't they understand the etymological significance
of such a word as SINGE or FRIZZLE
orFRAPp, with a small pee.

A long section of red, spelling out the one word GRAPPLE
would be the last to go. But then
as he attempted to scrub out a difficult dark green
that had seeped into the concrete between the bricks,
he suddenly, and for no apparent reason
remembered his grandmothers great gramophone,
her grand piano in the hall, and her lack
of gratitude.

Apples, according to his last graph,
was the fruit he had taken the most, followed
by grapefruit and then plums. The grapes
he had earlier scratched from his list,
as the wooden nurse with the threatening spoon
that stood by the toilet door
was always complaining about the pips. Maybe

after this
he'd go back to drawing girls in graphite
get a grant,
and resume his studies in graphology. Gemma initially,
had been impressed, but then had got upset
over his suggestion
that she seemed to be harbouring towards him
various kinds of murderous intentions.
Perhaps
he could have put that better. Maybe
describing her instead
as competitive.
She could certainly beat him uphill on any bike
and he still carried the bruises from their last
demonstration of Kazokie at the Bank. In fact,

now that he thought about it
he still hadn't retrieved their hand-made
embroidered banner...
ALL EXPERIENCES ARE EXQUISITE...
from the garage of Mister Brown.