And that fig which does not travel,
has come back in you, in your ripe
face, so confidently, that I am convinced
it must be the fruit of Eden,
that the Bible has it wrong.

From the Riviera your smiling eyes
have bourne the fiery flesh
of real temptation; For nothing ordinary
was Eve expelled from paradise.

She was a smart woman,
and her choice was clear.
Not lacking the knowledge of good and evil
but the taste, she sunk into your skin
and left Adam to scramble for the core.

Filled with your perfume she wandered
singularly out of the Garden and into
a jungle of sensation. Just
as I, watching you now

focused on your work, pen scratching,
am overcome with a need
to indulge in your texture,
and when you lift the glass
of tea to your lips
I lose all language.