ApPARENTLY MY MOTHER'S GRAND THEORY OF HOMOSEXUAL DESIRE was that dirty men and innocent boys meet at twilight time in twilight zones. She wanted me to stay away at night from the park that was "melting in the dark" behind our building, ignorant of men's meetings under a starry ceiling of spot-lights in the toilets of a prestigious department-store. A gentleman welcomed me to this unpromised land of pleasures with his personal theory "that there you get to see first what you get to see last in other circumstances." Lately on the gay radio, in a program on weekending, I happened to hear him theorizing that "desire makes everything else circumstancial."