Flight to Suburbs

In some ways Prague is just a run
To another suburb, catching the 5:18
Getting out
Getting away
Getting home

A conversation in the Club Car
Over martinis with a fellow commuter
Leaving behind
Looking ahead
Wanting weekends

A few will stay, lay back in hammocks
Trade grass for urban broken glass
Thinking thoughts
Writing lives
Painting dreams

Others shine their shoes and stand again
With folded morning papers, time scheduled
Going back
Picking it up
Sweating it out

It only suits a few and city rats are city rats
Their mountains rise in steel and glass, deadlined
Pumped up
Doing lunch
Making deals

And so it goes, this temporary cutting of the grass
A flight to suburbs, maybe staying, maybe not
Loving it
Hating it
Trying it