I visit South America via a dead
man's words: undercover priests
and barren parks.
I visit through a different man's
images, exercising in his underwear,
laminating the past.
I've never been to Mexico City,
but I recognise the light.
I've never been to Santiago
its history keeps me up at night.
People sell mobile phone holsters
in shaded kiosks in an urban sprawl
that moves at a crawl.
I once took a European night train,
but now I wait for something to
enter the frame.