She looks like
a punk Juliette Binoche
We first met in the meditation hall
I sat behind her covered by a woollen
shawl
At the end of prayer she wheeled around
and faced me with her hands in prayer and
bowed
She thought I was a
monk
One day after leaving my cabin
I trudged up the hill and saw her
I was struck by her defiant beauty
it took my breath away
It is the sort of beauty
that can't be written about
I could have been her father
but I loved her nevertheless
She was gay and knowing this
I loved her even more
She lives in Paris now
studying to be an architect
She told me
I know you are a wounded
old bird
but you can still fly
I told her maybe I am
but I still love you
She paused, I love you too
my friend .
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