It was the way the grass looked in spring
The individual lines of the sundress

The leather jackets
Thrown ironically onto the branches
Forgotten about
And left to hang

Until some long since dead idles
Replenished their invisible skin
And decided to stroll around in the cold
Allowing themselves enough time to reflect
And rewind

They saw flashes of their expected futures
The bastard children
Thumbing the illusive currency
Before swallowing it whole

These tender offspring would grow up
And out of their bedrooms

They would stack bricks
And build excuses

They would let the liquid burn their tongues
Fires expanding higher than the satellite dishes
Charred on all aluminum rooftops

Circular spheres would then form
Around their eyelids

They would see Christ
And find lice in unseen locations
On their freshly cleansed bodies

Worship would occur daily
Before and after meals
Behind closed doors
On sofas
And hilltops

The grass would grow around their feet
And they would say what everyone wanted to hear

"Our mothers and fathers were somebodies once,
Upon a time
Before it was okay to be
The exact same"