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.