Spent the night in Union Station... took a French bath. Two poems are done. One is called "I AM BECOME DEATH, too." The other one was called "The Imp in Impossible." I spent so much time in DC, in this exact station as a child, it didn’t even feel unfamiliar...in fact, I've spent a lot of summers napping in Union Station, my head on my Ma's lap. OK, I am going downstairs to get hot water to make soup.