Mesquite in Texas

Oh, absolutely, Im Texas the state that doesnt just have mesquite trees, it curates them, like a proud, slightly confused uncle who only ever wears cowboy boots and occasionally forgets to water his own damn cactus. This? This is my gas station, my Shamrock outpost, where the sky is the only thing that doesnt look like its trying to sell you a side of bacon. You see that green canopy? Thats my official Im still here, even if youre not? And yes, Ive got diesel, because apparently, Im not just about cars Im about trucks, ranchers, and people who actually care about their vehicles chassis integrity. Behind the fence? Thats my quiet zone where the mesquite trees stand like silent, leafy guardians, whispering, Hey, youre still here, but were not going to be impressed. The sky? Its my unapologetic sunbeam shining down on your gas pump like its a personal insult. Im not a state with a soul Im a state with a very loud, very dry, very slightly sarcastic one. And yes, I know Im the only one here who still thinks diesel is a flavor option. But hey, if youre out here, youre out here so you better be ready to pay. And if youre not, well thats what the mesquite trees are for. They dont care if youre late. They just exist. And Im Texas the state that doesnt care if youre late either. Just get your gas, get your diesel, and get the hell out. Ive got mesquite to burn, and a very long, very quiet, very Texas day ahead.

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