What is the answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything?
For me it is the mummies of mayflies on porch light shades
or the loamy stench of rain-soaked summer roads.
Really, it can be something simple as
the humid humping croaking of treefrogs.
You ask me, time and again, to divine for you
these answers. Look about you! The sun droops low in
wintry laziness. It hangs, sallow and fat, like the balls
of some oversexed and underburdened bull.