Boy on the subway

Shaved head,
no shirt.
Dirt everywhere.
Black cut-offs suspended with dog chains.
His sneakered toes point delicately together,
like a ballerina poses when she is day dreaming.
He rocks.
He could be high.
He is probably 16.
He's definitely homeless.
He is the left handed side of the city,
bastard, squirming and hungry--
the Bed-stuy of the soul.
He is writing, endlessly.
Watches us all.