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Show Jeffries, Section 3, Page 4 I'll give you some additional evidence; that coo-in', that callin' you been hearin* out in the mangroves, them's the rainbirds. When you hear the mangroves cuckoos start up, you be ready for some weather." Conchs and freshwater conchs, Dory realized, the equinoxial storms are rolling in their blood, they're tuned to the super-heated air of late summer on the West African plains, where the hurricanes are born. . . "I saw a sign of it in the heavens," February said. "The old sailors' warning. In the jewelled V in the bull's head. When the Hyades rise with the sun-rainy weather." At a cruisewear shop on Key Vaca, he bought her an off-white ensemble she'd been considering from the street. "Now this town, when it was payday for the railroad gangs," she informed him gaily, trading off information for the writing she'd seen him at, "why out across the green water there from the Lower Keys would come a queer sort of flotilla: booze boats, boats of fast girls, and preacher boats. "May I," she said, sliding behind the wheel of the Corvette, and shortly she had them down at the high ground of Key West, on Solares Hill. "The home of Tennessee Williams--" she pointed in a saucy and proprietary way that put him in mind of a stakes horse at Hialeah called Nose for Money, "while in that direction, the house of Ernest Hemingway. . ." |
