In the room at the top of my parent’s house
I was grown, the second seed.
Years ago but years from then
I looked for what I’d take with me
and found an answer in that room
to a question I had yet to ask.
and clinging there
a slogan unwrapped long ago.
I knew the sort
A generation’s easy words
The distillation of a kind
Of understood significance.
To the doors of whispering fridges
Clings a world of silent phrases.
A fridge magnet. Could it, I thought
really have stayed with me so long?
Why there? And from where
this inability to uncover causes?
In black and white it spoke to me
A strangely unapologetic sound.
No matter where you have read it,
Or who has said it,
Even if I have said it,
Unless it agrees with
Your own reason and
Your own common sense.”