i let her write her number on my napkin, / and promise we’ll go out dancing

when i don’t know why the sun sets in shades of black and grey, I hold this glass of fire and ice closely like a friend. i let her write her number on my napkin, and promise we’ll go out dancing servants to the bass and the shrill highs and sweat. and in the morning -

in the morning, full and bright, she tells me this - this - this is. this is our day.