ALONE WITH A PLASTIC COMB

By Tikum Mbah Azonga

I offered her a comb
My personal one
The one I travelled the world with
I couldn’t care less about the heap
Or the overnight palm wine in her belly.

I was at the foot of the mountain
A cherished offspring of Epasa Moto
I wore no hood
And didn’t smell of engine oil
So why betray the joy of my heart.

Copyright 2010-08-06