The warm yellow lights of metro cars
and white–knuckled fists holding red bars
are no replacement for a descending sun.
Because I’m always on an underground run,
I have yet to see a Prague sunset.
There will be more gold than red, I bet.
I hope there’s more gold than the shining, gilded churches.
A pigeon shits on sculpted stone
as it perches on a pope. I hope to see the yellow–gold
of the trees in Jinonice as it turns cold,
or even the yellow lights of the Meet Factory.
Honestly, it’s a tragedy
that the gold will outlast the leaves
as they fall from the trees
and start to decay.
I’m waiting for the day I see that sunset.
