The divorce antlers still wore their felt, as we plucked one another from our incipient grooves. Clicked to zero like some doomsday clock and we banjo-ed up to perform Mandolin Wind, all cozy, hot, and azure to the bone. Crazy churned inside me until all I could swallow were dry crackers. Such is a love affair’s start. Then you lovingly, piece-meal, introduced to me pancakes and blueberries and broiled cod. Stars of our show, the chef and the feasting, the courtyard leaves clacking with wind that lifted.