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This poem is taken from PN Review 140, Volume 27 Number 6, July - August 2001.

Fourteen Poems Togara Muzanenhamo

Man in the Bowler Hat

for Anna

I am now the dislocated stranger
Stationed somewhere in your thoughts,
Dreams, or on the mundane streets you walk:

My back turned, face concealed or obliterated.
Although I am everywhere you fail to notice -
Bunched amongst myself and alone.

I can never speak but only ever stand;
A whole legion of myself, an entire place
Of a faceless face - obstructed or draped.

Like Magritte's men I am now that clad-dressed
Man with all the inessential elements left out.

Hawker (Johannesburg)

Drawing up to a stop-street,
The hawkers approached -
Drawing themselves thinner

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