Black tie Your black tie matches the night, lighting a match. I put it out with my fingers as I walk across Marion Square. We don't want to light the grass on fire even though we already have. But never taking the stars for granted. I kiss you, pulling your lips to mine with both hands. We never made it to the restaurant, but stumbling on the dessert bar on Market Street, grabbing my face with your hands and pulling in, enjoying my cherry red lips. I brush my hair with my hand across to my right shoulder. A light glare from a car outside illuminates the glass window fronting the dessert bar. Lighting your face through the glass. I see your light blue eyes. I see you staring in.