there must be another,          
        deeper and crispier night:        
                                        
              
                                          
 the  kind of  night  where  she  reaches 
 down for  your  hand  and  says  with  a 
 smile, "let's  blow up  that satellite". 
                                          
 and there's stars and  thunder and youre 
 wearing  a  glittery translucent  purple 
 spacesuit,     all     gooey    looking, 
 contrasted  with   her   pearly   white, 
                                          
 and you take the hand