Bankhead: The Line's New Horizon

Lyrics

The rust on the tracks used to bleed into the dirt after a rain.
Smelled like iron and sweet kudzu.
Just the hum of the transformer down the block.
That was the only music we had on the line.
The old line.

Then came the men with their bright vests and measuring wheels.
Making promises of a green ribbon.
A park for the people, they said.
A new connection.
We watched from the porch, fanning away the heat of a Tuesday in June.
Heard the first diesel engine not pulling a train, but tearing up the ties.
That old creosote smell, gone.

They're laying green over the iron.
Pouring concrete where the crossties slept.
They call it a new horizon for Bankhead.
And I'm just standing here, watching it come.
Wondering if this new light is meant for me.

The path is smooth now. White and clean.
Faces I don't know jog past in bright shoes.
Wheels whisper on the pavement, a sound so different from the old freight cars' groan.
A townhouse rises, all glass and sharp angles, where Ms. Alice's garden was.
And the 'For Sale' signs… they’re blooming faster than the new landscaping.
Another one went up yesterday on Joseph E. Boone.

They're laying green over the iron.
Pouring concrete where the crossties slept.
They call it a new horizon for Bankhead.
And I'm just standing here, watching it come.
Wondering if this new light is meant for me.

This house remembers Terminus.
The end of the line.
Is that what this is?
Another end?
They call it a BeltLine, a circle.
But it feels like a blade, slicing the before from the after.
My property tax notice came in the mail today.
Just a number on a piece of paper.
Just another nail.

A new horizon.
The sun sets behind a crane.
The green is here.
The iron is gone.
And we are still here.
For now.