topography flattens

Driving to the Gulf, sweeping over that one, last set of hills, on down to the low sand dunes. It begins long about the time we roll through San Antonio, there’s a change, a shift, the pace slows down, the topography flattens out, and the scenery becomes a little more lush. There’s a special place called Snoopy’s [fresh fried food] where I like to stop and eat. Riding in a truck isn’t exactly tiring exercise, but telling stories is. “Dude, you can pick them.” The way it was described to me, the commercial fishing boats back up the restaurant’s pier, the fish are herded through the batter and flop into the grease. What can I say? The locals showed me the place, and I’ve been going back ever since. Now where’s that lucky hat? “Women want me, fish fear me.”