cote d’ivoire

by little camilla jean

i really didn’t get her at first.

she tried to grab my hands and dance with me

in front of the nurses and doctors and guards

and i just stepped away

because it was way too cray

and i was trying to get the fuck out of there

(they take notes on you all the time).

she was from the ivory coast.

i guess that’s where they traded

poached elephant teeth,

fucking french blokes.

what must she have thought?

america is a scary joke?

then they let me put on my clothes on my way out.

and she sat with me for a little while,

and i taught her some basic signs

and we both smiled.

she was actually really nice, turned out 🙂

she better be better off now… or else God’s about to find out.

(dude, He already knows.)

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