I don't know why, but most of the street lighting around here
casts an eerie yellow aura over everything,
as though we're in a perpetual fight against mosquitoes.
Just before the bus for home came, I looked up
to see this young woman wearing a bright yellow jacket.
Just twenty minutes earlier, I'd stood on a corner
at North Illinois Street, near the Hinkle Fieldhouse,
bathed in the pale yellow hue of the street lamp,
butting against the window light of this home,
one eerie, the other welcoming.