Oh, that night.
That night that night that fucking night at the diner.
We both knew what was happening, even as we left work, even as we drove down the road, even as we pulled into the parking lot.
Baby I have never seen lights so bright.
When we were radiating, like bells, like starshine
Like humming in perfect harmony
The fucking waitstuff wandered by for a contact high; smiling like we were new born.
And our food was fucking perfect, though I don’t remember eating.
I even (even I) recall the song on the jukebox: Mr. Mister with Broken Wings because I fucking hate that song.
But that night…
Oh, that fucking night…
And back at your place my hands found yours and they were
Intertwined before I could even make a move and
You were mine
I was yours
And I made you smile like you never have before
Glad to be blind when you
Made me smile like I never have before and we
Lost our identities in the most unimaginative way
And I heard Broken Wings even though
I fucking hate that song
But that night…
Oh that fucking night…
I’ll spend the rest of my days trying to forget (to remember) every detail of that night…
Oh that fucking night.
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