It's a famous, oft told tale, but it's worth repeating here. An elderly Robert Frost gets up to read his poem "Dedication" to John F. Kennedy on the day of his inauguration. Unfortunately, the glare of the heavy snow makes it impossible to read the words in front of him. Instead, he goes to "The Gift Outright" because he can recite it from memory and it's the right length. It's also incredibly thoughtful and maybe more reflective than the poem he was supposed to give. "The land was ours before we were the land's./ She was our land more than a hundred years/Before we were her people." Frost in one of his finest hours. Not sure if a particle accelerator and baker's half-dozen of Lamborghinis was part of his vision, but Irishman72 gives it a try.
Apologies, Mr. Frost:
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent into life in the ‘burbs with 2.4 kids and a Mazda minivan.
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it had a nuclear scanner truck and seven Lamborginis;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In asphalt on which no tire had wrote elevenses.
Oh, I ripped the first one a hundred yards that day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back,
so I spun smoky donuts for five minutes to leave my mark of passage.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence,
After a crazy wife took my nuclear scanner truck in the divorce:
Two roads diverged
I drove those seven Lamborginis into the ground,
Shredded tires in every state and crazy Canuck province,
Heard valves and pistons bash each other to oblivion,
Lived in a warehouse in Texas with heaps of ruined Italian metal
And that has made all the difference