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Posted on May 14, 2011 at 1:27 PM

Henry will watch girls pass

Most of the day, especially

The young ones, the blonde

Ones, the tall ones, the ones


With fine figures, the ones

Who look at him disdainfully,

The ones who smile out of pity.

He thinks he remembers their


Mothers, the same look, the

Same way of walking, the same

Disdainful gaze, the smiles of

Pity. He recalls their fathers,


Good looking guys, tall, strong

Boned, muscle armed, bronzed

Skinned, blue eyed boys from

The right side of the track. Henry


Knew their mothers better, got

Inside their panties, unhooked

Their bras, unzipped their skirts

And dresses. Henry looks and takes


Them all in, imagining the daughters,

Maybe his daughters, unknown

Nights, boozed, all night love ins,

Sex and booze, youth and music


And good old rock and roll and

Maybe dimly, some young chick,

Her legs about his waist, reciting

Poems from memory, and someone


Opening and closing the door and

The Grateful Dead music on loud

Going around and round his head.

Categories: Poetry & Lyric, Terry Collett

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