Fițe & ficțiuni, Zona sensibilă

Coffee and nostalgia (part 1)

I am sitting in the morning at the diner on the corner. I am waiting at the counter for the man to pour the coffee. And he fills it only halfway, and before I even argue he is looking out the window at somebody coming in.
„It is always nice to see you”, says the man behind the counter to the woman who has come in. She is shaking her umbrella and I look the other way as they are kissing their hellos and I’m pretending not to see them, and instead I pour the milk. I open up the paper; there’s a story of an actor who had died while he was drinking. He was no one I had heard of…And I’m turning to the horoscope and looking for the funnies, when I’m feeling someone watching me, and so I raise my head.
There’s a woman on the outside looking inside. Does she see me? No she does not really see me, cause she sees her own reflection. And I’m trying not to notice that she’s hitching up her skirt and while she’s straightening her stockings her hair is getting wet.
Oh, this rain it will continue through the morning as I’m listening to the bells of the cathedral. I am thinking of your voice… and of the midnight picnic once upon a time before the rain began…
I finish up my coffee and it’s time to catch the train!

Caught in the middle, Carol, we’re middle class, we’re middle aged. We were wild in the old days, birth of rock ‘n roll days…Now your kids are coming up straight, and my child’s a stranger. I bore her, but I could not raise her. Nothing lasts for long. Nothing lasts for long. Nothing lasts for long. Down at the Chinese Cafe we’d be dreaming on our dimes. We’d be playing „Oh my love, my darling” one more time.
Uranium money is booming in the old home town now. It’s putting up sleek concrete, tearing the old landmarks down now, paving over brave little parks, ripping off Indian land again. How long, how long, short sighted business men…? Ah, nothing lasts for long. Nothing lasts for long. Nothing lasts for long. Down at the Chinese Cafe we’d be dreaming on our dimes. We’d be playing „You give your love so sweetly” one more time.
Christmas is sparkling. Out on Carol’s lawn this girl of my childhood games with kids nearly grown and gone. Grown so fast, like the turn of a page. We look like our mothers did, now, when we were those kids’ age. Nothing lasts for long. Nothing lasts for long. Nothing lasts for long. Down at the Chinese Cafe we’d be dreaming on our dimes. We’d be playing „Oh my love, my darling, I’ve hungered for your touch a long lonely time. And time goes by so slowly, and time can do so much. Are you still mine? I need your love, I need your love, God speed your love to me.”

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