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