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