I arrived in the morning with train aches and re-assembled my bike from its bits and immediately made a break for it–a fat stack pancakes at Chaffin’s. Sparkroot. Che’s. Time Market. And later, in a crowded booth in The District, this song played on the box and I closed my eyes and blood went everywhere/inside me. Man made the train, he says. To carry the heavy load, he says. But, he says. And then he goes on.