She reads Eliot like it's the Bible.

If I had any use for you, I would speak more than the past. I would speak in tongues that existed before that ludicrous tower (of Babel) had been built. Perhaps I would prophesize your stock portfolio and tell you about your future debts. But, you are nobody to me. Are you somebody to somebody? Are you headed to a home that reeks of potpourri and domestic ennui? I'm not. The life of a psychic is ever so banal. Knowing everything does not mean you understand it all. You could serve a purpose. You could be my lover. Funny thing- that word. Lover implies that you would love me. You look more like a screw-er. You could be that person I go to mid-day, meeting in the corporate parking lot. Fifteen minutes in the back seat and I suddenly feel like a woman again. We would leave, pretending nothing happened, and I secretly wonder about you- grow fond of you. Yet, this secret affair is walking down 6th Avenue while I walk down W 56th Street. My ESP tells me I'll see you walking down the street tomorrow. I'll touch my hand to my cheeks while you check the time on your knock-off watch. You'll nod and I'll feel so blessed.

Inspired by "The Blower's Daughter," By Damien Rice
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5YXVMCHG-Nk&feature=relmfu