his morning I take a 15-minute ferry from Portland, Maine, to Peak's Island. Perfect sunshine. The world is like tanktops and cool white cotton. Waves crash on the black shore, water spills over the rocks.

Two scruffy men in front of me on the ferry sip from plastic Coke bottles. They wear flannel shirts and jean jackets and they are so wasted it is as if they are auditioning for "Our Town," speech slurred, listing in their seats.

Carries Cane: So when we get to the place, we go to the grocery store and buy some beers.
Missing Teeth: The constable won't hassle us?
CC: Nah. But not too many beers. I can't do 30. I'm not --
MT: Your stomach hassling you?
CC: Eh.
MT: We're not young anymore. We can't drink 30.
CC: Donny could drink 30.
MT: Donny could drink.
CC: But what they didn't say in the papers, what they never said was it wasn't just 30 beers. It was 15 grams of [indecipherable]. That's why everybody blames me.
MT: Listen, Donny was a --
CC: Wasn't me.
MT: Listen, Donny was a unhappy person.
CC: A broken man.
On the island, I find them bickering with each other in the corner store over the last bottle of Skyy Vodka. They're like a walking public service announcement.

I rent a old Schwinn bicycle, the kind with wide grips and a wicker basket. Up until a few weeks ago, I hadn't ridden a bike in something like 15 years. But it's true what they say, how it's like riding a bike. Anyway, bikes are my great new no-duh discovery (next I rip the lid off of beaches and sunny days -- they're lovely!) Only everytime I start up again, I kind of wobble and I catch myself saying, "Okay, okay, okay" until I get steady and then I laugh and blush, even though no one is looking.
Everyone waves as they pass. It's like a virus of sweetness.
A few minutes ago, I passed this library and I had to come in and type this all out, just to share. But now I'm back to the bike and off to the shore, where the kids with big bellies patter around at the edge of the cold water and their mothers yell out from their towels.
Okay, okay, okay.

written in Peak's Island, Maine