THE SUBWAY #16 / HANDS
OFF THE TRAIN
by Amanda Deutch

The young pseudo Basquiatic bum
watches
watches
watches
with his junkie Buddha eyes
on the R Train going d
                                o
                                  o
                                  o
                                    owntown
Splayed out like a flower
across several seats
a brown crumpled McDonald’s bag
with all his belongings beside him
His junkie Buddha eyes try and stab me
we know each other
We know we know each other
on this train
in this dream
He lights a cigarette
defiant of the deities that surround him
cops, hypocrites, millionaires, models
red embers glow like kryptonite
& grow so big
they fill the whole car
his cheeks are sharp & etched
as if from having to defend his mind too much
His eyes, fallen dim
w/ a single pierce of light
distant in the tunnel of his pupil
as if from having to protect his heart too much
Taut black sweater wrapped around
his torso like a middle class strait jacket
his hands are worn like gloves
deep in the cracks dirt
that neither Ivory or Irish spring will wash away
As if from touching too much
As if from searching too much
As if from plunging his hands
desperately into the earth’s flesh
& tossing it around for answers
                                                      or questions