Folded thought of the day:

Brrr.  It's cold here in New York City.  And yet, I refuse 
to bundle up.  No scarf.  No gloves.  People walk around 
like they're in Siberia.  20 layers of various bits of 
clothing.  I find this a bit scary -- like if you start 
peeling off the layers, nothing would be there.  

I like being cold.  Makes me feel alive... human.  Just 
give me my leather jacket and railroad boots.  I'll be 
fine.  

With some train song playing in the back of my mind.  
Slowly driving me to some landscape.  With a perpetual 
motion.  Gaining a certain amount of momentum.  Back 
and forth... to no end.  

Tracking your awareness... your pilgrim's progress.  
Look out the window, at the passing.  Making clear 
your destination.  Your unsettled embrace.  A cause 
for celebration.  What else are you going to do at 
this point... on the map?

With all directions pointing the same way.

The lover takes effect.  Arousing suspicion in the 
hearts of the lonely and the wary.  

The big joke.  It comes and goes every night.  Right 
on schedule.  Wait your turn on the platform.  Cause 
I'm coming to town.