He checked my ticket, then he checked me out,
to my surprise. I was a fool; we dated,
(but just the once). He left me in no doubt
that fare evasion was the crime he hated
above all else. I hardly said a word
that evening. Then it ended. I was miffed
at being bored to death by such a nerd,
who topped it all by giving me a gift:
his "Ticket Inspector's Handbook Number 5",
a kind of Bible for a man whose brain
is filled with Rules, goes into overdrive
when he can implement them on a train.
He'd given me the book so he could boast
about his job, how much he'd had to learn.
I tore the thing in two, then dashed to post
it to him, with a note: Two Part Return.
(Click on the picture to enlarge it.)
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