story time: presidential edition
so you know how everyone has a story
like if you’re at a party and someone turns to you and says, tell the story
and you know exactly what they mean
and not unlike most good stories, it involves three key components:
and the absolute earth-shattering horror you can only feel after making the worst mistake of your life
it all began eight years ago
(i was a gangly child then)
and barack obama came to town
(when i was a young girl)
(my father took me out into the city)
(to see the president of the united states, obama)
except it wasn’t the city but where my parents worked
and my mother was hired to take pictures of obama shaking the hands of others
(people who didn’t wear reeboks to meet the president)
so i skipped school to see obama
(but my teacher was a republican so it still counted as an absence)
most of the adventure was waiting in a large room with my mother and some secret service men for roughly eight hours
because there is no timing with obama
no one can know when obama is supposed to be there
there is no, like, obama warning system
it’s just that one second he’s not there
and i remember nothing from those eight hours except for when one of the secret service men tried to talk to me
‘how are your studies,’ he said
how’s school, he probably meant
but i didn’t understand at the time
(about eight hours into the eight hours)
he wasn’t wearing reeboks
(i began to feel i’d made a mistake)
my mother took pictures of him shaking the hands of others
(none of whom were wearing reeboks)
i was happy enough to have graced his presence
my parents were not happy
oh yes, my parents thought at some point, probably
i’m obama, obama thought, most likely
i was going to meet obama
and the next thing i knew i was there
his hand was shaking my hand
(nothing had ever felt so right)
‘so what’s you’re name,’ he asked
and i almost forgot but i told him
and he said it correctly even though it’s weird
and we were off to a good start
how was i to know the horrors to come
‘so how old are you,’ he asked then
and that’s when this dream became a nightmare
a seemingly innocent answer
what have i done, i thought
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m3LGopSVju4
i still don’t know why i did it
did i do it for the thrill of the chase?
i did it, i thought, i lied
i lied to the president of the united states
the greatest lie in history
(i didn’t know what a heist was)
‘oh so you’re in 6th grade then,’ obama said
shit what do i say, i thought
i open my mouth to say, yes
maybe he won’t know, i thought
(obama’s been around the block)
‘so you’re ahead of your class, then’ he said
(i failed basic math at least twice by this time)
‘yes,’ i said, just wanting this nightmare to be over
just wanting the lie to end
for obama to call me out on my shit and arrest me
to spend the rest of my youth locked away in prison where i couldn’t hurt anyone any more with my lies
obama thought i was a good kid
obama thought i was ahead of my class
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qYNH1baA_7k
obama, i mouthed out after him
i still wake up at night, shaking, and i think
i lied to the president of the united states
the photographic evidence of my nightmare hangs in my father’s office
i’m smiling through my pain
i hope that someday, after obama’s retirement
we can put this all behind us and start anew
i know that we can never really go back
back to the way things were
five seconds after i met him but five seconds before i lied
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