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Does her rounds in my lane in turns
Her sari tucked tight between the slits
Of her fully formed round bums
She feeds the crows, all gills and fins
For fleshy fish, demands cash
Late evenings does some spiny spins
At night clubs, controlling trash
For bad guys who won’t listen to her
She suffocated them with fishy smell
But otherwise she is dancing, enjoying
And flashing her fake jewels
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