1, 2, 3, swoon.

Hey! Hey everybody! Guess what? Our new President fucking reads! Books! Like that book he's holding right there! Everybody already knows that Obama's a poet, but did any of you take Ben Lee's class on Contemporary Poetry and Identity in 2005? Is that why the book looks familiar? (Note the helpful arrows!) Because it's the collected work of Nobel-winner Derek Walcott and your adorable soccer-playing married poetry professor made you write papers about "A Far Cry From Africa" while you tried to figure out how to write him love notes on your eyelids, and your boyfriend who sat next to you underlined your favorite passages? And the book sat on your shelf until you gave it away during the insane breakup six months later, drunk on Green-Apple Bacardi, but you saw it again at a Barnes & Noble in downtown Chicago shopping for a housewarming gift for another boy you liked but who, well, lived in Chicago? And then you decided to apply to grad school after finding out that Derek Walcott taught at Boston University and were thanked for your application but roundly rejected anyway?

Right. Walcott's collected has more or less been the bane of my existence. His motto is, "No You Can't." But, Oh!Bama, I don't care, just read aloud to us from the volume sometime on one of your fancy YouTube addresses, okay? You can make Michelle hide her copy of Somebody Blew Up America until the taping's over.