Chemistry

I loved the white coat, safety glasses
and foreign names of lab implements;
crucible, beaker, pipette, Bunsen burner,
the acrid smelling, gem-hued powders,
blue flame-lit tubes and cylinders
reducing mystery to elemental ash.

We were real scientists, memorizing
atomic numbers (I no longer remember),
tingling with imminent breakthrough,
though we investigated only the solid,
concrete principles of Chemistry 101.

Learning is like that, fresh to the novice
deciphering phonemes for the very first time,
unraveling the delicate simplicity of haiku,
or trying to connect pinprick constellations
while lying on a mountaintop with a man
you believe you will always love,

love being the ultimate chemical reaction,
fusing a thousand acquired elements
of self and other into a new composite,
amorphous and mutable, yet resilient
enough to flex without disintegrating
into meaningless, random dust.