The Panama Kid Comments

Sorry for the wild goose chase, Kim, and thanks again for taking the time to read and comment. I deactivated that one (and forgot I did) because I submitted it for publication to some journal that insisted that the work not exist anywhere else on line. I'm still waiting for response..... anyway, here's the rest.... Like Mine I saw my hands the other day on another man. Gripping his elbows unconsciously self-protecting. Like my hands do. Fingers like mine slender, not fine but freckled, like mine. Hands that tilled the earth, milked the cows, patted my head- perhaps. Hands that baited the hooks gutted the fish, handled the crabs with no fear of pinchers, whatsoever. Opened unopenable jars unwrenchable nuts unworkable whatsits. Hands that held my mother’s face before love became a memory. Before my head was unpatted my shoulders unsqueezed. My life unguarded. Before the days of unconscious self-protection.

well...not quite so exotic. He was known for wearing a Panama hat, so the locals called him Panama Kid He didn't quite ride off either. But he did take a job to captain a Vietnamese fishing boat across the Gulf of Mexico, but the boat sank off of New Orleans. He went ashore there, got a job doing contract drywall for Holiday Inn, and was moved out to Vegas. He fell in love with the desert, and became a lonely prospector working his way through the great basin. I learned all this when I finally caught up with him 30 years later.

Thank you, and I so appreciate you taking the time to read and comment. It means much to me.