That Night

I was thinking about us fighting in Paris. On that night it rained, at about 2 AM, when I was outside by the balcony watching the silent streets. Soft night rain, me smoking a cigarette -- the smoke curling away caught the light of a distant street lamp. Then I heard someone who sounded young and a bit drunk, splashing down the Rue de Rivoli...going home or back to their hotel I hope. She was American, and sang walking fast, "...but not I...I will survive...as long as I know how to love, I know I'll be alive..."

I smiled in the dark, because whenever I think I'm alone on the street, I sing songs like that also.