PARODY Poem: COMPROMISES, by Kate Adams

after Robert Frost

Whose woods those are I used to know.
Not gonna stop to see them, though.
No way we could pull over here.
See, freeway, kid, you gotta go

and go. Ol’ Smokey’d think it queer
we tried to stop. Oh, he’d appear
like magic, like—oh look, a lake!
You missed it, kid. Things disappear

real quick at eighty-five! Don’t take
it personal. I mean, Christ’s sake,
we could be in a buggy, creepin
by . . . See, kid, you gotta make

some—compromises so’s to sweep
the old out for the new. Can’t weep
for what’s gone by, can’t fall asleep—
God!—at the wheel! Got dates to keep! ❖

2002