Robson Street - Poem by Roland Bastien

Wobbles like sneaks.
Some are too gay looking
To be real
Like images we can see these days on store’ windows at Robson Street.
Others dress like gentlemen and

Ladies with a strange manner to draw codes with their hands
While
Their eyes empathize with a random system and gaze at a solitary man who walks faster then them.
Others rise their anger to hit that man.

A Chinese woman, a Proust’s character
Dresses a 50’s fashion designed cloth and a large summer hat
Sits at the starbuck café corner of Bute. She
Gives the impression that she choreographs the crowd by transmitting alpha signal’s codes to their brains.

Robson Street
A dry summer day, around lunchtime.
Looks hyper real.
Randomly
It shows the realism with a complex semantic structure.
That makes the past meaningful only by analogy. If it does, it will look like a dead meat that comes alive by a magic touch.

The big answer will be another question.
Can it be again on the table? The song remains the same
A virtual loop without condition and objectivity, beyond rules.

Beaudrillard will delight the sight.

Metaphoric attitude- Crowd unmasked
Robson Street reeks over the town.