I ran around you and climbed you  like a mountain.  I threw my arms about  and flailed  like a child, sucking the sweets, sucking the taffy  and lapping the milk, the white skin of your body. Your breasts  were cups of new warm breaths, firm and hard, you...

Even the bruised-fruit in the bowl  wants to jump out of its skin, and the kitchen wishes it was an outdoor patio, and the rug is tired of getting stepped on,  and the building sometimes wishes it was never built.  And even God denies his own existence; ...