On the Run

The warm yellow lights of metro cars 
and whiteknuckled 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 yellowgold  
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.