BANDOLERO
The cowboy gay guy with all his fixations is
mine alone : we can walk along humming
Copeland while I dream hard of his sister
instead. When we get to the beach, I know -
I sense it already - he'll take out his western
gun and start firing away. That little lariat
will be his, and the kerchief too. He'll start
dancing around on the sand like it was a
crazy-land stage. All those cowpokes are
really rubes - like watching a bunch of
1940's freaks performing 'Rodeo' -
making western noises on stage
while the only language they
really knew was French.
(Everything has a
story behind it).
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