Reviewing the night

[busker]

Prize the new night ahead,
under neon’s cool moon-sky.  ... I imagine the setting to be somewhere in a city with its neon lights. S2 indicates it's a restaurant.
Our soft migrating urges,
still monkey-guided, confused.  ... there are some missing verbs here. ('are still monkey guided'?). 

Vin et chocolat, Ben?
At the table, tugging thoughts.  ... Nice
We’re practically alive,
cradle-mourning time.  ... not quite sure why it's cradle-mourning time, or what it means. I expect the rest of the poem to explore this theme, but it doesn't.

Oh sun, abate your eye-
crude, reeking servant.  ... nice, but 'reeking' is odd
Nighttime, my vivid cavity,
linger raw among us.  ...  this doesn't quite make sense in the context of what you've said before. There are neon lights, you're at a dinner, and you have a problem with moonlight? It comes off as a cliched poetic wish for night's darkness, which doesn't apply in this situation.

Ben - claws or cleaver now?  ... I assume this is a reference to the menu, in which case it's a nice reversion to the dinner table conversation of before.
Our sun has lost entitlement.
His last cues, unclear still,
yet echo in my ears. ... 'cue' and 'echo' can't be associated with the sun, unless you set up the metaphor properly, which is not the case here.

I think it's an interesting poem, but the 'what' has to be thought through some more.