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