Sometimes late at night my wife and I will get ideas about sex but then we fall asleep with our hands in each other's pants. You won't see that in the bible. It's always the fear of this and the dread of that. It's always people taming the beasts of the Earth. My wife and I take turns: first I tame her, then she tames me. Afterward, she asks me if I like her new pajamas and I say yes. She asks if they're soft. I run my fingers over her thigh and say yes. She asks if they were too expensive and I say you decide. If I was granted one wish I wouldn't know how to choose because I'd like to stay exactly like this but I'd also like to see so far into the future I don't recognize a thing. I'd like to be both the lamb in the field and the volcano that ate Pompeii. I'd like to be given and hold a secret. Two days later it happens: I'm sitting in the grass on a Monday afternoon. There's a single bee in the clover going from flower to flower. Nobody knows this but me.


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