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 squeeking tramlike 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