Standing on the track, the vanishing point,

Thinking of Jack Kerouac’s “On the Road” –

My grandpa steered a LARGE locomotive.

Got the Urge for Going,” life’s disappoint…

Clackety-clack, rhythmic rumbling flowed

Into my drifting off to sleep focus.

Does Grandfather’s aura bestow, anoint,

Making me restless, irritating goad?

Traveling inspires my inner poet.

Just once before I die, I’ll ride that train.