“I am who I appear to be,”
Said the man.
“Only most of me does not appear.”
“I am who I appear to be,”
Said the god.
“Only most of me is not apparent.”
“Ah,”
Said the man.
“You and I are not so different.”
“Yes,”
Said the god.
“And no.”

“I am who I appear to be,”
Said the man.
“Only most of me does not appear.”
“I am who I appear to be,”
Said the god.
“Only most of me is not apparent.”
“Ah,”
Said the man.
“You and I are not so different.”
“Yes,”
Said the god.
“And no.”
As I held her, she laughed.
Because I didn’t know whether she smelled of
Roses,
Lavender,
or Vanilla.
And I laughed.
Because I knew whether we wander
English gardens,
or the hills of Provence,
or Aztec temple grounds together,
I think only of how she smells as I hold her.