Zoo Gets All Mushy Again

What a wicked game you play
To make me feel this way
What a wicked thing to do
To let me dream of you
What a wicked thing to say
You never felt this way
What a wicked thing to do
To make me dream of you
And I don't wanna fall in love

-Chris Isaak
'Wicked Game'

This came on the radio at work yesterday, when the sky was clouded over and you could smell the rain coming. And suddenly I remembered driving through the countryside with the skies wide open and the sound of windscreen wipers and tyres on the wet highway, listening to this CD. Made me all cosy and happy and mushy, as much as I am not usually a huge fan of Isaak's sentimental stranger style. Suddenly I longed for counter meals in country pubs and fleeting flirtations with moody boys in jeans and checked shirts and sitting in cafes watching electrical storms and hitching up long skirts as you run through puddles. Damn, such a cliched old romantic I prove to be, time and time again! Ooooh, Zoo is just SOOOO subversive, with her not-so-secret longings to be whisked away by a likely character in denim and a trucker cap, or braces and a polo shirt, or chaps and a Daddy cap ... heck, a Zoo wants what a Zoo wants, and there ain't no shame in that I suppose. Just where to find someone who fits the bill AND wants to make sweet love/plans/adventure with me? Damn the cold weather and schmaltzy music, always turns me into a soppy old creature wanting flowers and cuddles and the odd rough and tumble.