That Night

That night was cold as I dropped
off the bus, the pale moon
dropped off the muddy clouds.
Music flowed in my ears, but
I wasn't flowing with it,
the mind dipped in the night
for quiet contemplation.
Lighted windows sleepless,
peeping.

What if I don't get to see
what is to happen to
this street on nights like these,
years later? Where would I be,
you asked, as if you care?
As much as I cared for that
street, that night, that moment?