I ain’t the one buggin’. I know I ain’t buggin.’

The two friends kept an empty seat between them, filled the entire car with their conversation. Impossible to tell whether they were actually close or if one of them was just holding court.

Ask my ma, ask my sister, ask my neighbor, ask anybody!

Eventually, someone asked to sit. Balanced her bag of groceries on her knees, wedged into the space they left. She nodded along as they talked, turning her head one way and the other as they volleyed back and forth. For however long the ride was, a part of something.

But if I’m buggin’, and I ain’t saying it, but motherfucker let me bug!

📢 A Special Enthusiasms Announcement: The inaugural issue of The New England Review of Boats, featuring a short piece by yours truly, is out now. Order your copy here.

Also, if you’re in the general Providence, RI, area and like me/boats/writing about boats/people who write and like boats, come out to the launch party at Captain Seaweed’s on Saturday, October 24 at 6:30 p.m. I’ll be reading along with several other very cool people!!!!