You Can Set Anything Equal to Zero with a Little Foolery

There’s a random hill,
Could be anywhere
In temperate lands—

California,
Maybe New Zealand,
Argentina, France—

It’s in the background
Of a few postcards
From the area,

Not significant,
Just a sort of hill,
Lumpy, a few trees,

Mostly grassy, green.
You know what we mean.
That hill means nothing.