13. The burners had built a mylar dome filled by blowers, moonshine skin hovering over plastic blow-up chairs and sofas covered with fine powder from the Black Rock desert. Lancelot and Wendy found themselves alone in this plastic cave, the Lower East Side below, their kisses soft like the crackling tin foil roof full of crinkled stars. Champagne-addled heads buzzed from speakers. There Is A Light That Never Goes Out (no). They left the rooftop as the bag collapsed.