I can still remember . . .

It was on, then off, then on, then off again until further notice, the relationship being a broken record that needed serious fixing and time away from the individual that wore out the diamond-needle well & deep in between the grooves of that, her, vinyl disc. A collector of nostalgic feeling, memorabilia associated with antique and renaissance flair and a very vivid imagination, the lass will always remember the scent, the movements, the affirmation from a stare alone.

Kept apart for important reason, having been awhile without a physical embrace, the song maintained a sense of energy presence that helped strengthen the stretched bonds made between them and their separate cities. The disc was played over and over again in the phonographs channels and still a clear-cut frequency could not be established between the mixed signals. The respective satellite dishes only picked up what they wanted to hear and everything else left silent--like big brother watching you but only when you are bending the law instead of bearing the burden of it . . .

In a moment the song is over but for a really really long time that bittersweet taste, more the latter than former, stays on and propels us into a multidimensional expectation of a battle between ego and id !