he was
a homeless pharisee
looking for that buck fifty
that would lend him a temporary paradise
a distraction from the lice
that clung to loose and wiry locks
and looked to feast on his scalp
barefoot on a subway car
his eyes viewing some sort of peace afar
he held his hand out
as others held their breath
and clenched their noses for the stench
the flesh of his feet had worn away from his toes
making them look like fossils reborn
a homeless pharisee
who couldn't have seen
life turn out this way
if only one could lend him
hope
instead of loose change.
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