Fission Another word for love eludes me. I’m thinking of the man with his name in coloured lights on the wall. Enter the door and be filled with newness. We’ve stopped talking but the nights continue. It’s what we do, a series of firsts. When at last we exhaust the afterward, the body’s fusion, we split in two. Tomorrow I’ll say my name to a stranger for the first time. His hair will be blond and soft and my face will hurt from too much smiling. I’ll know this man because I’ve loved them all.