When people think of the X-Men

They think about Wolverine, Cyclops and Storm

The super-powereded mutants of justice

Who cleanse the world of scorn.

The emphasis on the lives of the mutants

Give them relatability

The fact that, under the mask, they’re problematic humans

Gives off a scent of empathy.

But let’s look at the subject of the poem,

X-Men.

Why X-Men?

We see it again and again.

X-Men, X-Men, X-Men,

written in ball point pen.

Screaming the word like a headless hen

Running around in a dim-lit den

As we read through the dumb adventures of Tim and Gwen

With the superpower to go “SUPER ZEN”

Mixed with bullshit clichés, I’m counting them, nine, ten.

But then, but then

They teleport to Big Ben

Where they fight the fucking enchanted mailmen

Lead by a guy called the Sh’n’jal’zk’fen.

But this is not about that.

It’s about the X.

Why X?

Why not Y?

Out of the 26 letters, why X?

Do we know why?

No.

But I think I do.

I have theory.

It’s so bullshit it just might work.

You’ll be teary

Hitting your head on your keyboard

Cursing to yourself that you didn’t think about it first.

See, the superpowers don’t come from a magic crystal

Or other bullshit that’s generic

It’s more personal and scientific.

It’s something a bit more… genetic.

The X-Men are called so due to a great addition

In that they have so many X-Chromosomes that they get powers.

With the extra x’s, they can shoot lasers

Grow an extra head or jump over towers.

Wolverine sure is special, but not because of his cool-ass bones

It’s because of crazy, extreme version of down syndrome.

Possibly, in an alternate dimension

Cyclops is albino and has a colour blind son.

Or maybe this is all bullshit.