Because I was reading Robert Frost (“The Road Not Taken”) instead of studying for Gross Anatomy Two nerves diverge in a withered hand And sorry I cannot select the pair Just one answer – so I stand My palms sweaty, expression’s bland Under the proctor’s icy stare The first one’s got a yellow hue And shines beneath fluorescent light Myelin sheath is holding true That once sped signals out of view Through carpal tunnel and out of sight The other nerve, so too it lay Yellow, glossy, full of charm A bit smaller, but who’s to say Less important if…