I notice hands commuting east tonight –
the women’s ropy tendons – mine and theirs –
the bitten nails on this one to my right
and him across the aisle, sneaking stares
at me or leaning forward, weary head
upheld by ugly hands; a callused bum;
a fat black woman manicured in red;
a man concealing mutilated thumb.

Remarking hands tonight, I’ll study teeth
tomorrow when I head the other way.
Like cleaning room by room, I’ll take apart
my fellows and examine us beneath
commuting light. These crowded seats display
our portions: sample people, riding BART.