The Answer

By Richard Jones

Tonight, looking for the answer,

I must have killed an hour

flipping through philosophy and poetry books,

every few minutes opening and reading a different title.

I anxiously searched all the places I keep books-

looking in the kitchen, the boys' rooms,

checking the laundry room and workshop,

before going outside finally to the curb

to search through books tossed

in the backseat of the car.

Snow fell straight down in windless silence.

The keys in my left hand jingled like very small bells.

I stopped and tried to remember

what I'd come into the night looking for.