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He calls her affectionately "Crow";
she's skinny to the point of ugliness,
wearing a black shirt
made of lacy nylon
He likes kissing her
pointy vertebrae between her shoulders,
her knees that look like stork's,
and her curly dreadlocks.
She lives with him but wishes
none of his money or things,
whether good or bad.
"It's your karma", she says,
"I need to atone mine in the first place."
And in the night, she stands by the bar counter,
for she dreams to reach Lhasa.
"Crow, you should have a baby!
What else do you need, girl?"
He wants to keep her warm.
"Well, Shambhala or Amrit, perhaps—"
Her ribs show through her skin.
He wants to spend all his life with her,
but her, she has other plans
with prana tasting like pot
and no husband whatsoever.