AT THE END OF THE WORLD 10

         The air is fresh, the ocean had no smell. The spaces, open. Views, breath taking. Alas, I miss those shitty Texas beaches, the sound of seagulls and cat calls from Rough Necks. Gulf oysters, lemon and Tabasco. Smoking Winston's on harbored docks for not so sea worthy shrimp boats with the ghetto repair jobs.
    Driving in you can smell the Gulf from 100 miles away and even further if there is a south wind. It's such a heavy smell you could put it in a jar and let it out later.  That smell would call to me all the way in Austin like Mcdonald's french fries, "Run away young teenager, unsilence your warrior cry."
   I would walk for miles in one direction down those beaches day dreaming about more exotic places. Now 4,000 miles from there, where the world really shows off it's talent for beauty and abundance; I want to be driving around Rock Port listening to Janis drunk off LoneStar.
 I hope one day I can be as good of a Hawaiian as I was a Texan.