I can't convey through text how desperately:
It scratches certain itches in my brain
To travel distance locomotively.
I have, in other countries, been transported
Across two hundred miles in two hours;
It was a case of see it, say it, sorted:
Yet here it seems forever past our powers.
We would bemoan the distances we cross
And claim it impossible to better;
Yet history reveals such claims are dross:
Our past did not experience this fetter.
I ask a simple question in this rhyme:
Can we not run a goddamn train on time?
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