I will die in Boston

A poem about my (imagined) death in Boston.(another exercise from creative writing class)

I will die in Boston, at night
With the full moon shining on my face
It will be a Monday, like any other Monday
I will die in Boston, after walking the streets
Through the steam rising through the street grates
With the ground shaking above the maze of train tunnels.
The young professionals will be my witnesses
But they wont even notice me, as they rush home
Their heads bowed, their steps echoing, their eyes tired after a long day
I will die on a Monday, walking the bright, noisy streets of Boston.
Past the sports bars, past the Chinese restaurants, and past the street venders and their late night customers
I will die in Boston to the soundtrack of dogs barking, cars beeping, and trains passing.
Anastasia Shaw died in Boston, on a Monday, beneath the full moon
Many saw but none noticed as they rushed through the crowded streets.
She died alone, fallen on the black pavement underneath the smoggy sky and foggy moon.