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State of emergency. Tens of thousands of homes, whole neighbourhoods, remain without power. I imagine the city from overhead as a checkerboard of alternating light and dark.

Late at night, I drive around town on my bicycle and take stock of the damage. Instinct draws me down the darkest streets.

Pitch black. I take out my mini-maglite--technician's best friend--and clutch it between my teeth as I pedal. This small headlight is the only thing that keeps me from crashing into downed trees.

I come across a crew of teenagers merrily dismantling a stop sign. They blink at my light as I sail past into the darkness.

At one point I get lost in the West End. I've never felt so alone in the city. I turn up and down streets, oblivious to direction.

Up ahead, a glimmer of streetlights.

Emerging into a lit neighbourhood allows me to assess some of the destruction. Huge trees lie uprooted on the roads. Telephone poles lean against houses.

A side street hints at mystery. I turn to steer my bike back into the blackout. Thinking, there is a definite sexual metaphor here, I plunge into another dark tunnel.

Suddenly I emerge on Quinpool Road, which is still powerless but amply lit by car headlights. I turn and head back to the 'hood.

Loneliness is potential.

Parties in dark places. I'm walking up to girls and grabbing them and kissing them. The appropriate word here is "emboldened." Everywhere is either darkness or candlelight.

I become aware that I am being watched, from a doorway, from across the room. I like to be watched...

When a new woman arrives at the party, I advance slowly towards her. I lean in to brush my lips against hers, teasing her. I share a few breaths with this woman, the whole time thinking, is she still watching?

She is.

We walk up a driveway. As soon as we're in off the street I throw her up against a house. In the darkness, I misjudge the distance and slam her against the siding a little more roughly than I meant to. She does not object.

I press her against the wall as she sucks and bites my neck. My hand slides up underneath her skirt and she's undoing my belt. I give her breast a hard squeeze, she moans and a shudder moves through her body.

They say hurricane season is when the ocean is at its warmest. I wonder if there's a correlation? Her pussy feels like it's boiling.

I've been hearing people describe the blackout as a magical time. Yes, there seems to be magic everywhere.

With the skill of a magician I pluck a condom out of the clear dark air.