My relationship with my country has been painful and complex for as long as I can remember, but my national identity has always been based on the rejection of tribe/religion/language/race as a marker of Sudanese-ness.
She was probably going to the mall to buy a dress from Forever 21 and maybe eat a corn dog from Hot Dog On A Stick. Perhaps she was frazzled and texting her crush, “What R U doing?! I’m at da mall. Meet me?” when she fell into the dreaded fountain.
At one point I had an erection and it seemed like we were both trying to undo my belt and unbutton my jeans. I weakly imagined what would happen if my jeans were removed and heard her say “we just met” from what seemed like an enormous distance and felt that I was asleep, or dreaming, or something, while “knowing” I was moving and therefore not asleep.
Mark Zuckerberg comes on stage via a gold-plated spaceship and everyone is like, “huh?” He rants about The Social Network and suddenly everyone in the audience is handed a remote control and puts him on mute. It’s very strange.
I rarely saw him on ‘rec.arts.poetry’ thereafter either, although I think on one occasion like a year following our incident I searched his name on the newsgroup and found one extremely bad poem he had posted on the newsgroup [even at age 14 I knew it was an ‘extremely bad poem.’]