Nepali Drunk
Let's workshop this poem about a sadhu who, sensing raised eyebrows from some of the westerners watching him suck down the food and drink they gifted him, splits a few hairs
Nepali Drunk The sadhu’s ravenous embrace of western gifts did not reveal, he said, a thirst all along: “The question is what one does for them, what one trades (hours, peace, even dignity?); what one becomes for and near them, and from what consciousness one manages them.”
The sadhu kind of looks like an older version of Dhalsim from the "Street Fighter" games if he'd grown his hair back out.