She was buckle fucking him like a rodeo horse with innovative digital technology. It was the worst cowpoke festival I’d ever attended. The hot dog’s looked greasy, plus they were too expensive, the Bratwurst looked like it contained surprises as well. There were milk bottles by the gas canisters next to the food cart. A tow bar stuck in the mud. There were porcelain jugs on a wooden trestle table, a flat red gingham tablecloth fully spread out beneath the jugs. I asked what was in the jugs. I was told it was one of the most enriching, yet high-priced drinks of all time, imported from Portugal. Apple bobbing in a mixture of barley and sleet. I scooped a cup of it, the worst cider ever, however a rich source of nourishment for the cattle hands. Lambs put to death in the slaughterhouse. Slow-moving, yet fresh fish pulled from the sea. The food prices are soaring. Shortages spark new diets. People come to the rodeo to salivate, not to watch prize-winning rope tricks or giant bulls trampling rodeo clowns heads in. Red face paint smudged in the ochre dirt. Warmongers cheering this on, slurping root beer, sitting on a stack of People magazines. Changes in people’s anatomy. NASA studies food products. Amoebas from Mars found in vegetable matter. The future will have visual differences from what we currently see. A pinkish hue, the colour of primrose flowers, a green tint, the colour of sorrel and mint. Thatch on cottages and barns are decomposing, smells putrid. Apples mashed in a wooden barrel, mortar and pestle style. The job takes extreme energy. Bunions on the workers feet grow larger. Abscesses and skins corns. Calluses as fundamental as the water of life. Bonfires heaving into the twilight air. The warmth from the snapping flames. Complex global supply chains. Vegetable dishes raw or cooked. Stetson hats. Grease traps passing through the intestines. Spinach with a peppery flavour. The girl speaks Latin. Braised meats for the poorer people. Mild forms of natural selection. Meat from animals slaughtered in the autumn. Ingredients in my hot dog contain traces of dandelion. Daisy flowers and malpractice doctors think that raw food causes illness. These people don’t come within a 20 km radius of the rodeo. They found me behind the Burger King hunched, draped in newspaper, sunburnt so much I needed a hospital. I come from out Indianapolis way. Nine gallons of petrol in my garage. Rich people with scurvy because they eat very little fruit. Campfires. Coyotes foraging for Indian bones. A wooden box. Rotten black teeth. Salmonella poisoning prompts the recall of millions or pounded Yeoman framers. Magnum PI on the TV. Laboratory engineering rather than liquid taste.