O sing to the shrine of the street called Pine
That
lost its name and found a number (fifth)
O
say Amen, Amen! to the hymn of its pith;
Shout Alleluia with
the chorus of remorse
For
all the streets of Austin that were renamed,
And
all the buildings that have been razed and erased.
And
raise your voices in praise of the powers that be
That
left the names of Texas waterways where they were.
You
can still drive down the streets San Antonio and Neches,
Or
navigate those called San Jacinto and Nueces.
Now
don't get me wrong:
I
would not try to brake the wheels of progress
Any
more than I would try to push these rivers.
And
digits are fine for the hands and feet,
But
streets in a city that's been around this long
Need
their stories told about the days of old
In
the labels we give to the boulevards and byways.
They
whisper their history if we learn to listen.
Cruise
down these hilly avenues
And
from the pavement over cobbles
Where
horses once were hobbled
We
hear the music of horns as the traffic swishes
Carrying
poems of our dreams and wishes
In
their wakes as roads roll like rivers of rhyme.
Stroll
down the sidewalks that course under the tangle
Of
branches of Live Oak and Linden, of Peach and Mesquite,
Of
Mulberry and Cherry, of Cypress and Cedar.
(Their
streets became feeders on to I-35)
This
city that re-invents itself every decade or so
Sloughs
buildings and businesses
Like
snakes lose skin or people change clothes.
The
next and newest is always the best.
No
one wants to hear about the Russian Tea Room
With
its quiet mystique, or the peace
Of
a petite rose garden tucked away
Behind a biology hall on the main campus,
Now paved over for more parking spaces.
We must dig with trowel under these streets
To find the skeletal remains of the city of old,
We can make mosaics of the shards of broken glass
And chipped plates from that lost culture,
Or sprinkle the pieces in our poems.
And like words of spells and curses,
They have the power of old Magic
To heal and charm.
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