Poetry Map of Scotland, poem no. 180: Hyndland

Plein Air

My feeling when I saw,
the white graffiti scrawled in Polworth Lane
between the black and blistered downpipes
like any common tag,
was one of bitter disappointment.

I would have thought my west end worthy
of a more creative despoliation
say a customised motif
using elegant Helvetica
sprayed in mocha tones
to match the pinkish render on the wall.

But no, just three stark capitals,
announcing to the world
G12 is now ganged up,
for Hyndland has a Young Team.
Apparently the Broomhill Bloods
are bricking it.

David Moffat

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