In the middle of the night cafe
you paint Victorian ladies
while I commiserate.
In the middle of the night cafe
you play your Procol Harum
and read Dostoevsky.

I sit in my little room...
and wonder what time it is...
at the point of no return...
where nothing leads to nothing...
and the fires of the heart...
can only burn...
and if you start at zero
is that where you will return?
Where shooting stars would take us
If we could only learn...

To ride...inside...the night
Not in fright...against the tide.

In the middle of the night cafe
I listen to the saxaphone
of Illinois Jacquet.
In the middle of the night cafe
I'm waiting for the frim-fram sauce
with oison fais.

you drink coca-cola,
eat egg sandwiches
and play piano in the parlor.
I wonder if you've played forever
though I know you only started. Time is an element
I don't completely understand
when we can grasp eternity
measured by the second hand.

I wan to ride...inside...the night
Not in fright...against the tide.


Mo Digliani