R oy had to write a poem: six stanzas, six lines each. The poem needed to have other things, too. An object or an idea or a natural phenomenon had to be personified over the course of the poem. And that personified whatever-it-was couldn’t just sit there for six stanzas, being reluctantly described by Roy, oh no; there needed to be an opposite number, another something betwixt which conflict could brew. A story had to be told. There are things that Roy does well, secret things that a person who bumps against his blustery boy-ness might never suspect (unless, say, his mother spilled the beans on him). Among these things is this: Roy is the only one of The Three who has ever expressed…