Castleberry, Sweet Auburn, O4W: The Edge-Neighborhoods

Lyrics

From my glass canyons, I look out.
Past the last office block.
Where the grid gives way.

To the southwest, the seam is Peters Street.
Your brick warehouses hold a different light.
From a one-legged veteran's grocery on Walker Street...
to the lofts that opened after 2000.
I see your fire escapes tracing stories I don't own.
I feel the rumble of the Norfolk Southern line that divides us.
A good fence.

To the east, the air changes.
The asphalt on Auburn Avenue holds the July heat different.
I can smell the hickory from the Curb Market at 8 AM.
I see the porch light on at 501.
The quiet Queen Anne house that changed a nation.
I hear the echo of Alonzo Herndon's promise from 1905.
A different capital.
Built on a different promise.

I am the core.
The capitol dome and the stadium roar.
But your Odes are not mine to sing.
I stand at my edge and listen.
Castleberry, your reclaimed brick.
Sweet Auburn, your righteous fire.
My story ends where your porch light begins.

And beyond you, Auburn, the city keeps unspooling.
Down the old streetcar path of Ponce de Leon.
Old Fourth Ward, another ring on the tree.
Another album on the shelf.
I only know the monuments.
You know the names of the wives and daughters the 1900 city directory just called 'Mrs.'

We are stitched together by overpasses.
We are divided by iron rails.
A city is not a map.
It's a collection of rooms.
And I don't have the key to your door.
I just watch from my window.
Respect the threshold.
The quiet dignity of a place that knows its own name.

Your story is your own to tell.
I'll just keep the streetlights on at my edge.
And listen.
Just listen.