I am jogging around the city, slow and loose like an athletic teenage boy who fully occupies his young and unscathed body. I am alert and aware. I have to be–it is daytime (the angle of the sunlight suggests a late summer afternoon). There are humans of all ages (and many dogs) doing what creatures do on a beautiful day. So I have an audience. There’s a satchel slung diagonally across by back. Inside the satchel are cans of spray paint: red, black, and silver. I am tagging buildings, spans of pavement, even park benches and the sides of buses. I am leaving my mark with panache and impunity, defacing whatever surface calls out to me.
Life is short! Act now!
Gero-punks of the world unite!
It is never too late to be inspired by one’s mommy.
You are an age, all ages, and no age at once. Embrace this mystery.
Yeah, sometimes growing older sucks but it is also really cool. Deal with it.
You don’t want to be old? STFU!
Will you hold my hand as I cross the street?
I am a gero-punk graffiti artist. Only I know that my spray paint is impermanent and will wash away when it rains.