She is the buttered knife in the bottom of the sink
She is expensive slimmers’ food and greasy chips
And beer
She is our lack of bog roll
She is swift like a sloth with a tree on board
In he room she is bored
She needs TV
She needs glossy mags
She needs Haze, Sean, Tony and Ash
She needs clubbing
But who’s got the stick?
(Probably her)
Everything that goes missing is in her room
Festering cups, Paul’s scissors which she denied having
She is the hole in my bank account
She takes but does not give
After six months she hasn’t even offered us a cup of tea
Or a polo mint
I would lock her in her room with a stone to see who bled first
She is two hungry cats, who starve all day
They cry outside my window
They poo on the floor
Their dish is never washed
The cat food knives are caked with cheap meat
They will soon be an Indian’s dinner
They got thin, they got ill, they got fleas
An eye swelled up and poured on to the floor
She didn’t notice anything
She leaves everything until it is too late
She wants to be a nurse
Here clothes are trendy, her makeup is thick
Her music is on the scene
She is on the scene
She is in bed until one o’clock
And then on the phone
“I got pissed last night,”
“Guess who Boredom got off with,”
“So much fit and talent,”
She is neither fit or talented
She always asks favours
She is those words you say when angry
She is the depression in the house
She is going
She is going soon
She is not interested in the environment of recycling
She is not interested in our lives
She spends the money she owes on herself
She never asks how the bills get mysteriously paid
Or how the dustbin gets amazingly empty after she has filled it onto the floor
She speaks to the cats:
“Shut up!”
She speaks to her parents:
“Shut up!”
She’s not a clever person
She’s not a good person
She wonders why we don’t like her
But she is going soon
No more awakenings at 3am
No more rude people on the phone all day
“Is Ali there?” Click!
“Is Ali there?” Click!
“Is Ali there?” Click!
Not any more.
She is a list far longer than this.