The Grand Concourse,
Once we promenaded there in Sunday finery
Past steadfast doormen
Under sheltering canopies
We waited in plush lobbies
Where smoky blue mirrors
comforted us.
Now, on an icy morning The street littered with waste
Seventeen, maybe less
She pushes a stroller to the yawning giant
Feeds it empty beer-can sacrifices.
It spits nickels at her
Perhaps to buy milk for the baby
Perhaps to buy beer for herself.
Who’s to know?
Who’s to care?
https://coraschwartz.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/08/Cora_Name_Logo_Aug2025-v2.png00adminhttps://coraschwartz.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/08/Cora_Name_Logo_Aug2025-v2.pngadmin2025-12-04 09:32:472026-01-16 12:45:45A Bronx Scene
A Bronx Scene
(dedicated to women I’ve known)
The Grand Concourse,
Once we promenaded there in Sunday finery
Past steadfast doormen
Under sheltering canopies
We waited in plush lobbies
Where smoky blue mirrors
comforted us.
Now, on an icy morning
Seventeen, maybe less
She pushes a stroller to the yawning giant
Feeds it empty beer-can sacrifices.
It spits nickels at her
Perhaps to buy milk for the baby
Perhaps to buy beer for herself.
Who’s to know?
Who’s to care?