Chemistry

Whitney was married to Allen,
But sometimes it seemed
That Allen
Was married to the lab.

Late at night,
Long after the fellows, residents,
And lowly med students
Had tucked in their patients

The midnight oil burned
A flourescent glow
From a thousand windows
In the towering lab building next door.

At the time I didn't understand
Why Allen babied his experiments
Leaving Whitney at home
To baby their son.

Were mice better conversationalists
Than Whitney?
Were beakers and test tubes sexier
Than the breast pump on the kitchen counter?

But I've been experimenting long enough
That the beep-beep-beep of the thermometer
Sounds like a waltz.
And my palms get sweaty
When I'm waiting for test results.

Finally I understand the obsession.
The hours may be long,
And the payoffs far between
But when the experiment finally works
It's the best feeling in the world.

--originally published 4/24/06