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