I walked into a lamp post on Saturday.
Was trying to navigate my way around Vauxhall,
Looking for the location of the flatshare on a map.
It hurts, of course.
Only when I met XY did she point out,
That there is a red line running on my scalp.
We couldn't figure out if it was an open wound.

After watching the badly pirated VCD of
Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind,
I conveniently walked to the A&E department,
Which was right beside my current accomodation.

Laceration,
The doctor said.
But we won't be needing any stitches,
As the wound seemed to have closed up on its own,
And there is no more bleeding.
I didn't even realise the impact was so serious,
That my scalp had suffered minor bleeding.
Wow.
And of course,
Mom shouldn't hear about the accident.
It has dried up into a scap-line now anyway.

Went to Oxford with XY on Sunday,
Where we did almost nothing,
Except visit the MOMA,
Which had a moving exhibition ---
Emily Jacir's Where We Come From.
If I could do something for you,
Anywhere in Palestine,
What would it be?