By Parson Thru
It's cold. It's 2322. I just missed the 2306. 43216 pulls into platform 10. The driver and his mate drop out to the floor and head. Finished for the night. Going home. Why not? End of a shift. The engine revs up to some internal procedure and no one cares that this is the fastest diesel train in the world. The excitement of 1976 - old hat. We won't see its like again. Despite human ineptitude it somehow fills the gap and keeps the railway going. Despite inspiration falling flat. What do I care? Just another drunk. No one else here is looking. I might as well not give a shit. But I do.