The first aphrodisiac I tried was from      the Ver-O-Peso market—not      eye of dolphin or the powdered genitalia           of the giant river otter—      but some herbal drink, bitter and nauseating.           I was feverish, my face           bland as a cloud.                Nothing came of it.      Later the same week on a dare I ascended all the worn stone steps of the Basilica de Nazaré, my head tilted      to one side, whimsical, but something           took my breath away.           Something shone in the peacock sky                and my breath was stolen.