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Douglas Tanoury Helen I sit on top of the hill At Balduck park and Think of you, Trying to remember The way your hair caught The light of August sunsets, How you leaned against A lamp-post and Lifted a bottle of Ripple To your lips. I know your waiting for me Patiently And all the old gang too, Burning sandalwood incense And playing old rock albums, Dancing under stroboscopic Lights with tambourine And castanets, braless and Barefoot, your long hair Flying wild and free. I know your waiting for me, Helen, As I sit on top of the hill At Balduck park and Turn sixteen again. Want to respond to this poem? Do it here! Return to Detroit Poems |
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