I'm in a phone booth

A block down

From the cafe Indiana

I think I'm waiting for a call.



There's a guy at a table

With a perfect girl

Looks like he's in another world.

Maybe it'll start raining

And they'll go somewhere else.

Maybe they'll melt through their chairs

And they'll go somewhere else.



I put my forehead to the glass

But I think I'll fall through

So I have to think about it

For another minute.



Here comes another guy

With his two sidekick bombshells

Looks like he wants a table too.

It's goddess galore

At Sunday brunch this afternoon.



I've re-established myself

Against the solid iron

Of the telephone.



I'd like to go out tonight

But I don't think I'll make it out of here.

And my hair

Has been falling out

Like it was dead foliage.