Just Give Me Some Kinda Sign.

It's bad love, I know, but the decision is not really mine. When the hot light's on, I salivate. Paired associations, just like that Russian dude's pooch. My car drives itself into the parking lot: Stephen King's "Christine" with a sweet tooth. I see nothing; know nothing. Next thing I know, my wallet's ever so slightly lighter and my belt is distinctly tighter. One of my oldest's first favorite songs was, I'm sure he's embarrassed to recall, "The Sign" by Ace of Base.