Last Saturday Night At United Palace

Slow dancing with you on the wildflower carpet while the lightning blazed and the thunder shook the balcony over our heads, turning graceful and slow down the violet hillside into the noise and the sweat, I'll never forget that. The way you danced on tiptoes, arms around my neck, looking up at me with that faerie smile shining through your black lipstick, spinning so light and so free.
And the spotlight glowed on your black satin dress as we danced all alone with the crowd all around us, I was lost in the elf light, lost in the blood tide. And nothing mattered but the warmth of your breath, the black rose tattoo that you had on your cheek. And the only thing I heard over the music were the words that you whispered when you pulled me so close.
When you said, "This is here, this now, this is all. This is all I could wish for, this is all I could need. How did you know how to make me so happy? How do I deserve this? I must be a good girl!" I whispered back, "It's me who's the lucky one. It's me who'll thank God tonight when you've gone to sleep."
And later on, when the night had gone quiet, when the curtain had fallen and the crowd had gone home, I held your hand through the snow showers, walking on air a few inches over Broadway. And it sucked when I had to leave you at Penn Station, put you on the last train to take you away.
And I lay in my bed, replaying the night, reliving the music, reliving your touch. Soon enough darlin', see you real soon.