* with acknowledgments to The City and The City by China Miéville
there is the city and there is the city, two territories coinciding
with areas cross-hatched, others overlapping, available
to only one agent — apparently not viable, or so it seems
slide through here and be sure not to notice a thing;
eyes are looking, looking, not seeing, not recognising
that person over there — he’s also looking slantwise, avoiding
you and the string of individuals stretching along this side
of the street, though it appears there is no way to step along
without knocking into someone — but you see, I just did
not collide with any of the crowd which seems impenetrable,
so chocker-block squared off with not a split or cross-crack
anywhere, meaning that no space exists for me — and yet,
and yet, I must proceed, can’t stay still, can’t go backwards;
there is a crime to solve — or a crime to commit, doesn’t matter,
just don’t stop because stillness will disappear you, nothing left
to be known in one place or the other or the space between
where there are people, but not anyone you will want to see,
or anyone you will want to see you — just walk on, head slightly
averted, seeing double but unable to fuse the images, to make
a singular picture; it’s not that there are doppelgangers, not twins
who instinctively know each other — auras can be sensed, yes
and instantly they diffuse so that you are innocent of knowing
them, knowing they are manipulating a similar dissemblance
tightly contained — cross-hatched space of impossible touch
keep walking, don’t look, don’t see, don’t consider that there is
anything, anywhere that you should notice, because you can’t
live in two places at once — there is nothing over the fence
murder is not a crime; it’s a violation of being where one isn’t
wanted, taking up room and making it complicated, so erase
the body — fold the space into the interstice, it’s gone
until it edges back into view, where it always was, but wasn’t
evident until it awkwardly spanned two cities, forced awareness
not wanted — then one must step between here and there
in the spatial and temporal shift which can’t be kenned
a shimmer in perception; a momentary hiccup in the phasing
of minutes and degrees — be careful when and where you go
don’t look, there is nothing to see here, don’t look, but it’s too late
the breach has occurred and must be quickly repaired
collaboration is required — collusion will be acceptable if not
formally acknowledged, though those who know, know well
it must be so and move down the streets, across the alleys
insisting on seeing nothing — knowing it’s mindful mirage
maybe in the in-between, someone may find a knife-edge, not
division, somewhere that is nowhere, walk on the edge,
visible but insubstantial — unable to be taken or held
seeing yet unseeing isn’t natural, it must be learnt
much more than a trick of the eyes though there is that
tension — the sense of something in the periphery, unclear
ambiguous and ambivalent, the mind generating equivocal
messages where only one truth must be relentlessly believed
but if both can be balanced — well, anything is possible
a crime can be committed and a crime can be solved
it may be murder either way, but stay on that infinitely narrow
line and you will get away with it — but you will be always
in that nowhere place where nobody can see you, nobody will
want to see you, nobody will ever speak to you, or touch you
you might as well be dead — you’ll beat the rap, so what
the body will be there, in that no-space which no-one
will enter because they dare not see what might not be there
so to speak — no-one will know is it the victim or is it you
