every night and every night. one would think that, after so long, some other image would work itself into my head, however, i am stuck skipping record on a flash of a dream. you turn and smile. i wave. always right before i wake up. some unconcious nueron fires your face to the back of my eyes, lips part to teeth, a small hand raises and moves side to side. some other device fires a name and a place, almost always a parking lot. somewhere inside my sutures and plates of hard bone, something keeps you. and keeps me. and all the while i cant control it- head on pillow in the dark, it traces some deep groove i cut and plays that summer scene. quick and quick, and over and over.