Poem: X Files

we used to
have this joke
in our family
about who had
showered – and
who hadn’t –

weird joke?

well, weirder still, it’s
still going…

and no one knows
the answer.

well,
we all do,

actually,

including the one
who is lying.

but isn’t it
fascinating – when
with family – when reduced
to just the few, the closest
crew, you find yourself
in a state of weird, wild
and wonderful

euphoria

(as if there’s
– actually –
any other kind).

i was home,
just recently,
and this story
about who played
tennis, and who didn’t – or
did for a bit – but definitely
didn’t shower
is in its final set.
surely.

it’s been going
on and on
and
on

and
we have
all enjoyed
the close
net play.

we have
all enjoyed
the
commitment,
the conviction,
the dedication…

i have
come to
realise

that this
is what
you’re
entitled
to enjoy
as family.

this is the
game.

this is the
aim.

you all have
your stories,

you all have
your version

of the truth.
and then there’s
the stories, you each
keep – but know –
are deep
inside – and all
around –

the family.

you can
have your
own version
all you like,

and good luck,

but actually,

it’s not up to
you.

and just so long
as it’s – also –

not
up to them

you’ll keep
talking to one
another.

it’s part of
the plan,

part of what
keeps you
together.

we all have
our tennis matches,

the games
we play.

we all have
our versions.

we all have
aversions.

and the truth
is really
out there…
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