A red streak highlighted her crooked nose
as she caressed her head on the window
outside a *****-tonk called ***** Crows.

One hand in her pistol bag,
the other crumpled up the ends
to her black velvet skirt.

Then she licked her upper lip
while pushing her shoulders
forward.

Did her eyes have color?

I don't remember,
'cause my world took a trip
with the wind out of L.A.

When I asked for her name,
she uttered with the letter, K.