When we walked the streets
of Prague, we felt at once alien
but surrounded by so many tourists,
almost somewhat at home.
Unlike in Lyon or Arles where
my limited high school French
allowed me the most rudimentary
of conversations, in Prague
it was pointing or Google Translate,
and then I wore the mark of tourist
despite wearing clothes I
had purchased there the day before.
We have not been back to Prague
since that only visit, but all
I need do is pick up Kafka
and I am back in Old Town Square
in search of the Buddha Bar.