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¿who is 溫哥華市
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¿who is 溫哥華市

Chris_SardegnaFoto: Chris Sardegna

¿who is 溫哥華市

in our way to false creek
i lost all the postcards words
alleys in a sudden gust of wind
chris abani is talking about maps:
“…Kartor är som Gud.
Det är staden men ändå inte staden”

sure chris is a nigerian writer
living now in california but the first
time i met him he talked swedish
today
he sounds like vancouver to me

walking this map making my own
i hear white snakes cover the heart
of the costumers like avenues the dwellers
my gaze goes on picture after picture
and i run into this woman
the tourist connaisseuse p. k. page:
“Look, you can see them nude in any café
reading their histories from the bill of fare,”

she says while sipping tea
an everyday scene under the gentle
sunbeams of the exotic south america
growing in the neighborhoods
and stanley park and fern and ducks

everywhere the richter vibes caress me
with mystery every person that passes by
i am i am i am i am i am i am i am
as the tweeting birds of pär thörn
down the seawalks and glass
they are
in and out of the japchae aromas
cooked by korean rabbits or tigers
in the corners of the streets that i read
a pair called orihime and hikiboshi
melt at the qixi festival in chinatown
every july the seventh and the moon

the architecture of mirages now forgot
the first names the second nations
replaced xwayxway everything
the wild canada became a cow ford
after geroge’s dutch ancestor’s name
then indians spoke hindi and weren’t
aboriginal
only the ferries cross the river
all the pieces scattered on the terrain
i am guessing the coordinates of van-
couver its rattling and lonely planets

the day i stand by its doorsteps
i will add sound to the soil
a new line a room a plane
building my own compartment
until then just rumors advertisement
gathering information crowded
with words leading to nowhere
sharing the many keys:
open the city
interpret the meanings
act my own mask in the streets some-
where else
every city leads a path to my own body

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