On the road to the top of the mountain,
At the base of the very last hill,
There’s a pleasing and well-traveled exit,
For the faint with a weakening will.
For the last stretch is steep and is daunting,
And for most, it’s just too much to bear.
And those with the best of intentions,
Turn right and then settle down there.
And together they built a calm city.
And they talk of such things as, “I could have.”
And they find consolation in “but” and in “if,”
And of course the most popular, “would have.”
There’s a sign up ahead by the highway,
“Excuseville: A Sweet-Dreaming Town.”
You’ve done well; you can stop.
It’s too far to the top.
Take the exit and just settle down.