The shame of it
can be found on the street
alongside the broken-handed vendors
as up past 34th
(where the Villagers staunch their nosebleeds)
a Colombian woman and her thick-headed kids
are standing at the curbside
selling sweaters while it’s snowing hard
until it comes about
that the youngest is shivering so bad
as to be almost dying there
with his big brown eyes
collecting up the emptiness
of the bundled passers-by.