Her voice in the chanson so that I'm in that evening orchard,
in that peach odor, at silk, the soft plush lipid layering, too,
the savory of her in my ear, body gone to mind,
the experience of her, the reason for her, clear
voiced in the chamber of the SUV, she, and me
embarking for Cythera, still living in the idyll
hearing the night fiddle of crickets from the fields.