All Graffiti is an Affirmation of Existence

BRITT WAS HERE 11/13/98

I wonder about Britt now
the length of her hair
and if she has children
what their fingerpaintings look like
if they'll grow up to cut their wrists
or break champagne on an oceanliner's bow
if I'll pass them on the street
I wonder about Britt now
the anonymous public restrooms
she has reapplied her powder in
the cheap matinées she has
barely slid into her seat
in time for before the previews ended
and the lights went all the way dark
if she is truly happy
or if she has just settled
and I think of decades from now
when Britt has died,
her name fading already
from the lips of those left behind,
imagining her gravestone
and, between the dates
bookending her time on earth,
11/13/98
and how all the strangers
passing by will wonder
what it meant.