down in the lab

you wake up, stretch,
look out the window, then
put on your white smock,
your name tag, you fix yourself
a cup of black coffee,
heat up a cinnamon bun, then
go down to your science
lab in the cellar.
you have a few beakers
boiling with a blue
liquid
over the Bunsen burner.
there are white mice in cages
a few rabbits
in a box with carrots.
the periodic table
is scotched tapped to the wall.
your old copies of the new England
journal of medicine
are scattered about,
earmarked and underlined.
you put your goggles
on and get to it.
clapping your yellow rubber
gloves together.
you are determined to find
a cure
for something. what exactly
that is, you aren't sure of.
but time is of the essence.
you aren't getting any younger.