Prague

By Lauren Kerr

I’m drinking Staropreman alone,
Charles Bridge comes to my lips,
this time without you.
Is it dramatic, to say a year of firsts?
Theatrics was never my style, you see.
My eyes follow my reflection, on the
window and I go back, to a French man,
who proudly had no God, leading us
along cobbled paths, light heads and
my light head can feel these walls,
and they open like a draw bridge and there I am
again with the theatrics but –
what else can I do?
I’m drinking Staropreman alone.

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