Tom sits in the grass

Thinking of the stains it will leave

On these new white pants his mother just bought

"Kids wear these here,"

she's said

"You're no buccaneer--

Get that off your head."

So she took his bandanna

And combed out his hair

And bought him some polos

And sneakers to wear

But he didn't like these "Nikes"

these "Reeboks"

These "Pumas"

He wanted his sandals

And the sand's quiet music

As he strode across it

Kicking rocks and shells aside

That was what he wished for

Not these closed shoes that hide

His feet, his callouses earned from walking on hot sand

And the blood of the beach

Left staining his hands