Footprints and Farewells

The first time I ever went to a beach
I wrapped the name of another around
my tongue but dared not speak it
as I ventured on with their sister and
my own mother ( her's as well in a way).

Which I suppose made his name taboo
in one way or another, but that is besides
the point now; I am here to tell you

about the first time I ever went to the beach
and how I sat there watching the waves
pull away footprints of people who left
before we arrived and I heard the sun
laugh along with groups of prettier girls than I.

Now that I live close to a beach,
the waves are still taking away the sand
I got in my shoes all four years ago
and along with that sand they tug at
the letters of your name and the colors
of your face. Which is not to say that

you have been replaced by that other name
forked like barbed wire or a burning pitchfork,

simply that times change and somehow
the ocean remains the same despite
swallowing unsaid goodbyes whole.