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