 Just for fun, we all pretend to be strangers. Just for fun we pretend we don't know each other on the street, on the train, at the store, at the traffic light. Just for fun we pretend we aren't locked in ecstatic union, and briefly ignore our intimate knowledge of the primordial secrets behind each other's eyes. We sit on the bus and try not to be the first to wink, or to burst out laughing at the silliness of our game, or to call out the goofy elephant in the room about how we're all pretending to be strangers, just for fun. Two spouses pause mid-coitus to shake hands and introduce themselves. Two twins in the womb make awkward small talk about the weather. The thumb and the index finger avoid eye contact on the elevator. Two slimy babies squirt into the same universe, made from the same stuff, and then put on masks made of mind chatter, so we can pretend that we don't know each other. My atoms are your atoms, and your atoms are mine. We have danced this swirling energy orgy since before the Big Bang, playing positive and negative, playing stimulus and response, playing predator and prey, playing mother and youngling, playing enemies and lovers, playing strangers on the internet, just for fun. I apologize, my timeless sibling, for breaking character just this once. Let us return now to our little game.