Today, I’m sitting on a shadier bench, and I brought my own coffee. 7/11 just wasn’t cutting it, and the temps are back up in the 90’s for another couple of days. Then, terror. Every weather event is evil from a certain point of view. Perhaps you shouldn’t live near water if you think such things.

This may very well be my last Texas summer. Granted, I’ve been saying that for twenty years, but the die were cast on a whole new table this time. I’m in unknown territory now, but this can be discussed when there’s more solidifying information. I can survive New England winters easier than Texas summers. There’s only so naked I can get here.

I need seasons, historical significance, and flowing rivers, not a random ice storm, two weeks of hoodies, or mud-bottomed, man-made reservoirs. Bibles, barometers, and bottom-feeding racial extremists are not on my Christmas list. Never was.

I’ve left before, and returned, but this time is different. I have a head start from a big city, and a road map that’s already well traveled. Then again, it could all be another pipe dream well on its way to hungry sea creatures who mind not the taste of sh*t. To each their own.

An inviting breeze just brushed by my sweat soaked head, bringing me back into the here and now. Sure, I’m daydreaming, but I’m daydreaming on a park bench beneath the shadows of a much bigger world. It’s still not big enough for me.

Preach truths, toke jokes, and shoplift Amazon.

I’ve done just about everything else I said I would do when I bowed out from beneath a corrupt Sheriff’s Department over a decade ago.

Even Bilbo sailed away at the end.