come for supper my dad says, he's grilling I say we're supposed to stay inside you're not sick he tells me and neither am I, come have a burger some fries, some laughs, let's roll our eyes -- and maybe he's right there's nothing to fear, his generation invented rebellion, invented barefoot invented protest signs gave their middle fingers to the old man in the white house and the sky -- where is your spirit he asks without asking I feel the disappointment like feathers in my lungs, the itch before a coughing spell -- how can it be he raised me to obey some faceless They there were no bathrooms at Woodstock and everyone was high they lived into a legend braided hope and daisies in their hair and how I wish the world they made was made to last and only doctors wore the masks E. D. Watson
