You and me and the Devil make three

Every five seconds Gods' good ocean slams into the hull of the boat and sends it off its vertical axis, causing me to clutch at the railing.

I am alone outside.

The salty spray kicks up out of the ocean and off of the moonlit hull and kisses my lips with the warmth of an old friend. What a night for a ride. The wind out of the east is cool. It betrays the date on the calender. Come to think about it, the whole week has. It is mid August, and instead of pulling a sweat soaked shirt from my skin, I am rolling down the sleeves of my sweater. For once, I am properly attired in a v-neck and jeans. I am alone and I like that. I should go in soon. My beer is getting warm. It and me and the Devil make three, and the Devil hates warm beer.