My voice is back in da Bronx,
                on Gouveneur Avenue,
itís with the guys on the rail
                          by Van Cortlandt Park,
where Bronx talk was talked
         for hours on end,

and went down smooth as the egg creams
         at the M&M
                    luncheonette on Sedgwick.
   These were voices that didnít talk

            about voices, or have conversations about them,
                     for they knew each other, these voices,

     and sometimes a grunt was enough
to communicate whole thoughts, the Yankee box score, and then some,
               like whether youíd be playing stickball tomorrow,

and where.
   These voices didnít travel well. They got lost.
                         And you know what happens when
            a Bronx voice speaks and there is no Bronx ear
                    to hear it.

December 1997

All written material © Bill Schechter, 2016
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