Poem: No Trams to Kacerov

Another of those solitary reflections on what might have been.

No Trams to Kacerov

Prague’s made me into a man of trams,
my doors sometimes stuck open
Other times can’t swing apart at all
for the crush of my humanity,
but Kacerov is where you live
and there are no trams to Kacerov

We tried all the routes to make it work
Faster metro, up escalators and stairs,
to walk a block or two and think it through,
just settled in each other’s pace
A cab perhaps, but I’m no good at hailing cabs
and there are no trams to Kacerov

So we met for Sunday brunch, then on from there
to walk our borrowed dog in Sarka park,
where last week’s snow still tried to fight the thaw
of warmer weather, and briefly warmer thoughts
Late afternoon, we ended up on metro all the same
and there are no trams to Kacerov

I walk a lot these days and think about steel wheels
Blue sparks overhead, an impatient clanging bell,
rung at cars in the wrong lane and rung at me,
‘cause I’m in the wrong lane too, standing in tracks
and not moving forward, the bell always behind
And there are no trams to Kacerov

I could move on, but home is here for me, too many
going back, a time to learn the language, settle in
Accept my creaking squeaking tram-like self
Know it’s just another way to get from here to there
Here is where we are and we’re not going there
‘cause there are no trams to Kacerov
Poetry Collection: Corner of My Mind
This poem is included in
Jim Freeman's
poetry collection

available here in print
or as an e-Book
in your favorite formats.