A smiling stranger who sounded like Jackson and called himself Jackson, but looked nothing like the man I knew. The Jackson Boudreaux I knew made Chewbacca look well groomed. The Jackson Boudreaux I knew made King Kong seem civilized. The Jackson Boudreaux I knew didn’t look like Superman and dress like James Bond and have a crowd of three hundred people on their feet, showering him in adoration. Maybe I was hallucinating. I put the back of my hand to my forehead, testing for fever, but it was cool and dry.
