boy from the valley

the moment she heard his voice again she stepped outside. her tears frozen, dotting along the coast, as salty as their home by the ocean. she remembered how his hair, the color of sand during high tide, flowed past her face as they rode along the bike lane home at night. he used to say, "hi, i'm M" and introduce himself to her friends with glasses on his doll face. as fresh as any page out of paris spleen, the smell of his warm gentle breath is as far away as nowhere.