I stayed inside her for a very long time. Propped on elbows, I let my rhythm slow, listened to our breath like bending trees and felt my heart keep time. I wanted to exist in the purely now. The past was easy to shake. It sank like sinners when I kicked it free but the future, well, the future held such promise of delirium and light-blinded, god-concealing, insubstantial insight and the little death of need and maybe a nibble on the neck. All good things. I knew if I so much as moved my hips the future would catch me up and hurtle me forward toward the afterglow. I trembled above her and sought her eyes instead. I wanted her to see me as her destiny, see my love for her as unique. She’d seen this look from me before, this forcing-an-epiphany look. She arched her dolphin body forward and gave me a look of her own. She rocked me off my elbows onto my toes and pulled me back like a magnet, rocked me, pulled. I couldn’t breathe. I wondered what animal we were being. Silly boy, she was thinking, I thought, epiphanies are cheap. I believe she growled. I found a rhythm high above the metaphors and joined her in a harmonious something, something furry we could share. And there it was, when I gave up trying, the multifaced feminine deity of my personal pantheon—lips of former girlfriends and a schoolgirl skirt, numerously breasted, plentifully thighed, legs to last forever and arms around the arms around my shoulders: all the women I ever worshiped in a single apparition. I can’t say if her eyes were open and she couldn’t have spoken to mine but we made what we needed and we saw that it was good.