TOWERING PASSION
TOWERING PAS ION by Rumple Foreskin Late afternoon sunlight reflected off nearby treetops as we climbed the scuffed wooden stairs of the old forestry service fire tower. Once above the nearby pines and oaks, the horizon opened up. Green forest stretched for miles in all directions. It had always been one of my favorite sights. But not today—not with the incomparable, denim clad bottom of Polly Wright swaying just inches above my face as she moved ahead of me up the stairs. Last night I’d...