And a few more. SECOND HOURWe watch a late-night movie and I walk Cloe home. “Let’s cut through the park,” she suggests with a glint of mischief...in her dark eyes. I can barely keep up with her frisky, skipping steps as she pulls me towards the hill, where someone put a makeshift swing on the old oak tree. I know she loves that swing, so I make nothing of it ‘till she bends down stepping out of her knickers, rolls them into a ball and hands them to me.Even the moon comes out of its curtain of. Seventh grade. Mr. Joyce's English class." It happened in school?" It happened everywhere. But the knowing started there. We had to do these oral presentations from a one page report on careers. What we wanted to be when we grew up. Part of it had to be from an interview with someone in that field we'd chosen for our future." Oh? What did you want to be?" A nurse. Pretty original, huh?" You'd have made a good nurse." Maybe. What I really wanted to be was a cowboy, or maybe a veterinarian, but I. More

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