The Way Old City Where I Live

Let me introduce you to Prague:
City of new-born capitalists and past echoes refusing to die
Of pale hippies
Leather skinned beggars
College buskers and old-time hands
Where dogs are treated like children
And children like jewels
While Romas in train stations or
forgotten Soviet Blocks
Steal from a system of
Tired bureaucracy
(Can you hear the bah bahs of
scapegoats ringing in your ears?)
Buses and trams branch like capillaries
Below metros link arteries
While fake cops weed out the tired the poor the huddled masses who forgot to refill their train passes
In Stare Mesto the drunk and alien make merry
On the gaslit stones of forgotten centuries
Down Wenceslas square tourists parade
Arm in arm with the lost
And hopeless homeless
Cooking meat fills the air above markets full of love-grown produce
Wicker baskets
Dark pivo in foaming glasses
The vendor sells them with a kind smile
And laughs when you try to speak czech.

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