Only half his friends called him crazy
The rest thought he was, may be, lazy
Wanting to figure out human traits
By watching flies run or hide, love or hate.
His students created hermaphroditic flies,
And peered into the depths of their complex eyes.
They gently mutated them into a fate
Of chronic sluggishness or hyperkinetic state.
When Proxmire nominated him for a fleece of gold,
He called him “Rutabaga” and continued being bold.
But when the Grubers undertook their neuroscience venture,
He accepted with pride and recounted his adventures
And told of a menagerie of creatures flawed,
The tardy, the stuck, the dunce, the easily awed…
And now on a summer day, when I swat a fly,
I am sure to think: “There, but for the grace of God, go I”.