Town without a Story

Everyone said our father
Started it. Soon as he quit
Going to work and left town,

Strangers starting showing up,
Claiming to be the story.
People said our father took

The story, the real story
With him when he left the town.
If you wanted a story,

The real story went that way.
But the strangers insisted
The story started with them,

And then each one of them fought
For our attention. It got
To be a real blood-soaked mess

Of quarreling, those stories.
Everyone blamed our father.
He was the one who left town,

And if he hadn’t left town
We’d still be in his story.
Why couldn’t we go with him?