I move swiftly through the night, like a bowel movement charging towards the first taste of bran flakes at dawn. When you least expect it, I strike at your heart by dating your sister and french-kissing her at Thanksgiving. I know what you wish for as you stretch and twist that moist y-shaped wishbone, but you must learn patience. I cannot bleed to death posteriorly until that wishbone has been dried in a 350 F oven for 15-20 minutes, because only then can it be snapped like your fragile drea