But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
	—Robert Frost

Once-upon-a-time…
I’d go the whole nine yards
Maybe, nine and a half,
To catch that tune

It was mid-winter
Snow, ice, deep-freeze, but
I knew where I could
Get my fix
Of Route 66
The basement
Of the club
Journey of only
A few blocks
Left the comfort of our loft
To venture out with friends
Rode the freight elevator 
Down to the back dock
The rhetorical question, 
What were you guys smokin’
Or thinking?
Rang true
Even before
We hoisted the gate
And exited the freight
An avalanche of artic air

Walk?
Hell no!
No one walks 
From here
To Route 66 
Not tonight

Brushed off the car
Chiseled off the ice 
Got her started—
Drove
Those few blocks
To the warmth
Of the club

Dim light
Blue smoky haze
Rhythm of the band 
They were already drunk
(We were, only halfway there)

Could have hunkered down
Back home
Killed-off the Bombay
And Tanqueray
But no—
No—not this night
Needed some R’n’R
Some drivin’ music
Some high octane
Some kicks
The wide-open road
The wind in our hair
The desert SW
Flagstaff, Arizona 
California—
(Forget Chicago)
More than 2,000 miles 
Of wailing harmonica
Pounding riffs
Flying high
On 66

I got my kicks
My way
On the highway
That’s the best!