every night she d come to me i d cook for her i d pour her tea she was in her thirties then had made some money lived with men we d lay us down to give and get beneath the white mosquito net and since no counting had begun we lived a thousand years in one the candles burned the moon went down the polished hill the milky town transparent weightless luminous uncovering the two of us on that fundamental ground where love s unwilled unleashed unbound and half the perfect world is found