Tom's dinersuzanne vega i am sittingin the morningat the dineron the corneri am waitingat the counterfor the manto pour the coffeeand he fills itonly halfwayand beforei even arguehe is lookingout the windowat somebodycoming in"it is alwaysnice to see you"says the manbehind the counterto the womanwho has come inshe is shakingher umbrellaand i lookthe other wayas they are kissingtheir hellosi'm pretendingnot to see themand insteadi pour the milki openup the paperthere's a storyof an actorwho had diedwhile he was drinkinghe was no onei had heard ofand i'm turningto the horoscopeand lookingfor the funnieswhen i'm feelingsomeone watching meand soi raise my headthere's a womanon the outsidelooking insidedoes she see me?no she does notreally see mecause she seesher own reflectionand i'm tryingnot to noticethat she's hitchingup her skirtand while she'sstraightening her stockingsher hairis getting wetoh, this rainit will continuethrough the morningas i'm listeningto the bellsof the cathedrali am thinkingof your voice...and of the midnight picniconce upon a timebefore the rain began...i finish up my coffeeit's time to catch the train