ONE AND ONE THOUSAND

by

G. T. Worland

Tony sat on a bench in Central Park, engrossed in the very very respectable Times. Phil was across a field, sitting on a gray granite rock thumbing through the not so respectable Daily News. He watched Tony for a minute, two and two made four. He crossed the grass, dropped the not so respectable Daily News in a litter basket and ambled toward the sun-tanned Tony, his jet haired head bending intently over the very very respectable Times.

"Too early for a New York tan," Phil thought. "Must have been to Florida." Tony's nose wrinkled in give-away disgust as he read that the city was transferring one thousand policemen to a new recreation force, "To guard against crimes most common to the city's recreation areas." Another purge! They'd already closed all the gay bars. Washington Square had a curfew! What next? Tony threw the Times away is if the very very respectable editors had personally insulted him. He glanced at his watch, 12:45. The Met was openmaybe lunch there and then he'd take in that new exhibit of Asian sculpture. Tony was so deep in his own thought that he hardly noticed Phil as he sat down on the other end of the bench. Not all the way to the end, but far enough apart that they were very very respectable.

"Got a light?" Phil asked leaning toward Tony.

"Sure," Tony fumbled in his tight continentals for the lighter his "ex" had given him in Miami. just before he became Tony's "ex."

Tony flicked the lighter, held it to Phil. Phil's hand lingered, just a little

15