You take off your silk screen Banksy tee and leave it on the vintage arne jacobsen chair. You turn up brooklyn vegans sirius radio set-Cloud Cult is on. We sprawl out on the rug we bought at the Renegade Craft Fair a while back--it was my favorite part of our apartment until Urban Outfitters started making rugs exaclty like it 6 months later for their "urban" home furnishings section. The TV is on mute, but MythBusters is on the discovery channel-- flickering light into the apartment. It still smells like vegan BBQ in here from the food you made last night. I love your vegan non-dairy organic style cooking. You are like the Sufjan of the culinary world--but you never give yourself any credit. I walk over to the window to try and feel a breeze because the heat in the city is unbearable. You come up behind me and trace your finger up my leg--Disco Sheets by Wolf Parade comes on. You finger fuck me as people pass by on the street below. I turn around to kiss you. I take off your diesel jeans and you bend me over, my tits hitting the window screen--we fuck while Talking Heads "Heaven" starts to play on the radio. I close my eyes and wonder if anyone is watching us...