A transient was run over by a train around the corner from where I live yesterday. Her body was kind of strewn out over the stretch of track she had attempted to cross while still with us. It is a track which crosses a few streets in the short distance she was spread. Later in the day, after the large chunks were bagged and hauled away, I drove over that track – along with others, and couldn’t help thinking that some of her DNA was on it, and as a result of many commuters going their way, her DNA was now transferred from the cold steel tracks she died on to the soft, hot tires of the cars rolling her remainders, ever so micro-biotic, all over Riverside city streets. “She is all over the place,” I told myself, “just like she was when she was alive.” I added. I was listening to myself, and giving her, in the privacy of the cabin of my car, an extension on her wanderings. I hope she heard me, or at least was on the same wave of thought I was on – the idea that she was still moving, rolling on the tires of Fords, Chevy’s, Toyota’s and Mercedes. She’s at 7/11, at the mall, and in my driveway. She’s in all those places, and all at the same time.