My Porch Paradox

Step up on the door step, dimly lit
Brown boxes opened, tape slit,
Balanced on my knee carefully bent,
Held tightly under my chin’s whiskered dent.
Slowly, I reach for the knob.
If it turns, I might be robbed,
An intruder invaded, maybe,
But if it’s stuck, I’m forced to find my key
and know my things are safe and sound
as I jiggle my keys in the moonlight around.