The Neighbourhood

I am a foreigner
on this side of the world,
moving in streets
I have known for decades.
My body tries to forget
the growing it has done
under the equator,
tries to become again
the northern creature it once was.
But it moves awkwardly here,
doesn’t remember these rhythms,
moves too self-consciously,
each step and conversation
too intentional.
I have lost the
privilege of carelessness,
of moving with ease
in a place your body
knows like water.
Home has become
a difficult theory,
a mystery I stumble toward.

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