Paul Simon once said that “ . . . the words of the prophets are written on the subway walls / and the tenement halls . . .”. I have myself recently seen the future writ large upon my own sidewalk.
Due to the recent construction of four megaboxes bracketing my own home in Point Grey, the sidewalk became so damaged as to require repair. The freshly poured cement naturally attracted graffitisti with popsicle sticks, determined to immortalize themselves. How few real opportunities there are these days for a writer to have his or her work literally graven in stone! Inevitably, one of these was an ardent young swain who wished to proclaim his undying love to the ages. His chilling masterpiece of . . . er . . . concrete poetry is located right at the foot of my walkway, where I must look at it every time I leave my home. It consists of a large heart, within which are inscribed the words:
TOOD + JANEY
Now, I don’t know about you, but I decline to believe that even in this day and age, any set of parents elected to name their son ‘Tood’. I am therefore forced to conclude that young Todd is unable to spell his own goddam name . . . despite having reached an age sufficiently advanced for him to find young Janey intriguing. As I make my living from literacy, I find this sign of the times demoralizing.
--Spider Robinson, from ‘User Friendly’, Baen Books, 1998.