Porch Lights

Somebody on this street still leaves one on for a kid who moved out years ago —

and that is the whole economy of hope: paying the light bill on a door nobody may knock on,

just in case the night produces a familiar shape at the end of the walk.

You want proof of love that would stand up in court? Skip the poems. Check the porches —

count the small yellow verdicts glowing at two a.m., each one ruling, quietly, in your favor.