[Written by John Tinneny]
[Image Credits: John Tinneny]
Near the top of Queen Margaret Drive,
amidst the signs informing people
‘no entry’ or ‘no ball games allowed’
someone made the pavement their canvas,
chalked up a whole new set
of instructions, for the public
to follow. For example, telling them
to ‘avoid the lava’ which courses
in red and blue lines, from wall to curb,
or to ‘avoid the cracks’, specifically
the new ones, laid down in jagged
grey smudges, jack-knifing over
the natural ones. In and around
the new hopscotch courts
and games of knots and crosses,
pedestrians were instructed to
‘stay left’ with an arrow for those
who would forget where that is.
The public was also informed
that Sophie hearts Michael,
that Rachel hearts Toby; there were
a multitude of other names, signatures,
scattered all over the installation.
It was impossible to track down
the original artist or artists. It faded
beneath the rasp of feet, the rain,
the tarmac breaking in the new heat,
the elements and their daily grind.
These words are the only trace
of it now. I don’t know whose feet
will walk all over them. How much
hard rain or rising water it will take,
until they’re wiped away as well.
Until they’re gone.