Buckhead Village: The Porch at Twilight

Lyrics

Marble steps, cool under my hand.
Seven fifteen, late May.
The air is cut grass and memory.
Down there, East Paces Ferry breathes out the day's traffic.
The glass towers drink the last of the light.
The old red sign from Coca-Cola says goodnight.
It's quiet now.
So quiet you can almost hear the bass that isn't there.

And then you're here.
A white-tailed deer on the Swan House lawn.
Still as a statue, where the chaos used to be.
A ghost with a beating heart.
The buck's head, come down from the tree at last.
Watching the city hold its breath.

This porch has seen it all.
Saw James Montgomery pour the first drink at the crossroads.
Saw the streetcars spark and clang.
Watched the last bartenders lock the doors for good in 2001, keys turning in the silence.
Now it just sees the perfect lawn, the perfect hedges.
No trace of the hurricane glasses or the laser grids.

And then you're here.
A white-tailed deer on the Swan House lawn.
Still as a statue, where Mako's used to be.
A ghost with a beating heart.
The buck's head, come down from the tree at last.
Watching the city hold its breath.

I saw you in 2017.
Same spot.
Saw you again in 2022.
Do you remember the neon flicker?
The sound of breaking glass on asphalt?
Or just the deeper quiet?
The Mvskoke trails under the concrete?
You stand on ground that forgets nothing.

Your head turns.
A flicker of an ear.
And you step back into the magnolia shadows.
Leaving me here with the skyline.
Just the skyline.
And the coming dark.