Waiting

Drinking coffee in a window seat watching the rush hour outside. People walking. In the dark. On the reflective street. Red light across tarmac. People listening to music, phoning, watching me back, chewing gum. A reflection of inside is superimposed on outside through the plate glass. I'm staring. Brain ticking over. Exhuasted. Listening to quiet jazz. Feeling like a broad in a Tom Waits record.