She said it went something like this

I asked Her how she knew so well what it was like. She looked distant, with those eyes, like the sherry in the glass the guest leaves.

One blessing had I--than the rest so larger to my eyes that I stopped gauging--satisfied . . .

She called it a blessing, and must have sensed my disbelief. She consented to give what, for her, amounted to an explaination.

. . . Why paradise defer--why floods be served to us in bowls--I speculate no more.

Suddenly the series of dreams, waking and otherwise, that had made me want to die, were bearable. Not quite delicious, but embraceable, maybe, at some point in the future. She had done it again. Guessing she was weary of my gushing, I didn't respond. The silence between us must have been what she'd been looking for, because she smiled.

She was unspeakably out of my reach--but she was mine.