Late one evening
when I was a child
I rode in the car
beside my father
when he turned
onto our street
I saw, up ahead
dead in the center
a light
Look at that,
I said, a light
in the middle of the road!
Daddy chuckled
—it’s not in the road,
that’s the lamppost
in our yard.
When I see it, I know
that’s home
All these years later
I can still see it
from so far away
glowing in the dark
in the center of it all
lit bits and pieces 