The motor surprises and palm leaves becomes a green batter outside the open window. Kansas gets 30 years younger in three minutes. He brakes, throws in the car on a side street and runs with chrome elbow along the canal where seabirds dries wings on stilts in the water.
-Here We could shoot, I say, if it were not for all signs.
We park and now Joe is 25 where he goes wild on a road sign. Suddenly, we have
moved from
Florida’s laid-
back
conformance
to testo
wrestling of
the Kansas
ranch with
fencing and
wire.
The sweat runs.
We huff and
puff. The heat
takes over.
Joe looks up,
and we both
feel it
What are we doing? Are we teenagers or? Right there in a split second the contact is full. The peasant boy from northern Sweden that become a writer and the cowboy from Kansas who became a briefcase carrier. Both united over a stubborn stick in the Gulf of Mexico.
-Joe Jenkins, a cool dude with a cool rod.