Bobby watches the news over his grandma’s shoulder:
the last tree in their city is dying
but the government funds will be spent
on yet another skyscraper.
He calls Ravi, whose father is an artist
and will give them buckets of neon paint for free.
Lorelei is all too giddy to supply the gloves and bandannas
from her personal collection.
It’s on tonight, Maria texts her friends from neighboring
schools and cities.

This is a protest.

The teenagers pour out into the streets, their brushes dripping
technicolor on steel and concrete. Flowers, boughs, foliage,
everything blooming in time to their rapid heartbeats.
The night is still young, the moon winking her assent.
They will keep on laughing and shushing each other, kissing and bickering,
and they will not rest until every drop of paint has been used
and every city is a glowing forest.