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Is this guy cheating?

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Sometimes, you can be just a bit too prophetic, my little girl. I am sitting at the table on the boat, and there is a sleepy, red-haired girl looking at me from the Captain's berth. She looks quite comfortable under the covers…but she has already yawned twice.

If it weren't for this weather, she would probable be asleep already. The wind is gusting – the river is running to about two feet today. The sun is hiding, and peeks out only occasionally to brighten my world.

Jerry stopped by for a while – he was hanging out in the boathouse playing pool, and got worried that I might be lonely out on the boat by myself. I wanted to tell him to go away, that I was busy, that I was thinking of you, but I didn't. I had a beer with him, and we swapped a few war stories and laughed, even though I was a bit distracted.

I am in a really strange mood, my muse. I would gladly spend the rest of my life writing at this table – assuming that you had no room to spare for me in that berth. As muses go, you are incredible. I have not written this much, or this well, in years. Nor slept so little, to be honest.

Earlier today, I went up to the boathouse to buy a beer. A redheaded girl that I have never seen before walked in, and I stopped breathing for a moment. She looked at me, and said, "Wow. I really like that hat." I just looked at her for a couple of minutes, then I walked past her, and back out to the boat. I am afraid that I made a bad impression on the poor girl.

The thermometer is bumping on the wall, as the boat rocks, but the sound of the water against the hull is kind of soothing. I like listening to it – you can just hear it, over the soft country music on the radio.

I was stalling about coming down to the marina. Usually, I just sit on the boat and watch the world go by, or go play pool at the boathouse. But I knew this trip was going to be different.

Everything is different, my love – you have changed my world. My vision, and my very sight. My world is different, because you are in it, and I love you.

Even on a cloudy, windy day, sunsets are beautiful on a boat. I wish you were here to see this one.

My batteries are dead – I accidentally left the dock charger on manual last time that I was down here, and it boiled the water right out of the batteries. Today, I filled the batteries with water again, and reset the charger to automatic. But I will have to come back next weekend to winterize my engines –the have to be running.

I had to put on my coat, just now. The gauges say we are down to fifty degrees inside, and about forty-two outside. And, of course, someone I know is hogging all the blankets.

Across the river, in Anacostia Park, the lights are on. It is pretty quiet, tonight. During the summer, I can sit down here and listen to the gunfire over there all night. In many ways, our American Capitol is worse than a war zone.

The worst nights are, of course, the warm balmy ones. This time of year, though, it is pretty safe. Or, at least, it is safer.

Trafficant's boat is about to come loose from its moorings, again. I better go tie it up for him. I wouldn't want the junk to come loose and disturb my Muse in her sleep, after all.

Just damn! It is cold out there. All secure now, but I almost dropped my pistol in the river. Oops. Note to self – always check straps before climbing around the marina.

What a glorious, glorious, night. Who wouldn't want to be me, indeed.

They are playing our song.

Somehow, you and this boat just go together, my love.

J'tem.