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

This poem is included in Jim Freeman's poetry collection CORNER OF MY MIND available here in print or as an e-Book in your favorite formats.