I tweak the idea, like a washed pair of shorts,
And spread it on a line, to dry.
And as water drips from the khaki cloth,
I look at this world of speeding science,
So many beautiful ideas,
Tweaked in all sorts of angles,
Spread on a line for all to see,
The fabric of scientific breakthrough,
On how to make a discovery
From mind to palm. Brain to bench to bedside.
Learning that even in Menlo Park
There were duds, and bombs.
And all you are, is just plain foolish,
To be building launching pads,
When there are no rockets
Or space capsules,
To take you to space.