even strangers pray for me.

his fingers move in slow, steady motions;
delicately caressing the ruby chain, a sterling silver crucifix glinting off the end of it.
i become mesmerized by repetitive movement, bodies swaying together with the rumbling of the F train.
but i am focused on him--his hands, his lips, his closed eyes.
i know that he is praying, but to any pair of roaming eyes,
he would appear to be asleep.

another morning.
red and black checkered hunchbacked grandmother, burning red lipstick.
she chooses the seat next to me in a half empty train.
her gnarled, yet nimble fingers unfasten her backpack.
i watch her from the corner of my eye.
you could say it's a hobby, people watching.
she unzips a small black change purse inside of her backpack.
her fingers unravel light pink rosary beads, a small sterling silver rounded crucifix revealed.
she locks it in her tiny fist.
the holy trinity across her chest.
eyes slightly closed.
red lipsticked lips in silent motion.
who is she speaking to? for? about?