Details escaped her, had no need,
And she at best saw mostly what she must.
She couldn’t tell oxytocin from oxycontin.
What’s in a name? Which compound went into what bin?
Which the neuropeptide, which a heinous sin?
Or Cosmos bipinnatus from the common ragweed;
They look so much the same—
But one’s a pretty flower, the other makes you sneeze.
One fears she never knew how best to please:
Allergy sufferers seemed to her no different from the just!
Thrust willy-nilly into complexity’s great mold,
She was a being with a big picture brain.
Experts in the end do only what they’re told;
She guessed at the secret rules of the greater game.
May 14, 2024