Sleepy little beach girl, sun slapped and color kissed, sprawls atop the humidity of the back seat. The sunset is gone, but the dark lavender-pink clouds of Boston's summer nights pool across the sky like the tide. Our contented dreams fill the silence of the car. Sometimes when I ask her something she does not respond, and I think it is because she is lost in all the pretty thoughts all tangled up with the salt in her hair.
