There was always one light on
each night
as I stumbled home
from the bar.

The rest of the lights on the street
were out
but the senile widow at 88A
always left her light on,
convinced that her husband who had been dead
five years
was cheating on her.

She was up at dawn each following morning
accosting passers by
and asking them
if they had seen her husband
who hadn’t come home
last night.

One day
a white unmarked van came
and took her away
and a young family of first time homeowners
moved in.

Last night
the entire street was dark
when I stumbled home
from the bar.

Its been that way
for weeks now.