Two roads diverge, each in a yellow smog.
It is the Freeway. I? I take the one
Most traveled by. It makes no difference,
Nor should it. Eight wide lanes and well-marked turns
Will get you there, without the waste and mud,
Ornate delays of detours. If you know
Mind, really know—so late itinerant,
Where you are going, is there, now and then,
Some reason not to take the easy way?
Other-Directed
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