praha

are these places more the first time one sees them?
i remember the snowflakes were wet and
yes, that firstfall feeling of
(my goodness)winter is here.
do you, too, relive that czech
snowfight sliding, alcohol-
warmed, through the pragian streets,
gliding over the cobblestone, flirting with life,
smiling over charles bridge and again a cellar-dinner basement: you, me, and knowing these moments will soon become black-and-white,
a crisp night seeps into another crisp night and all too suddenly we were jolted back home:
(stop)
the flight
(stop)
across the world i have laid out my sepia photographs of this city with y'all: the band on the bridge, the water, the fall. these memoirs linger somewhere between (re)memory and (re)living, there absolutely was no grander quixoticity with you than
that Prague,
those ungoodbyes,
that december.