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Dreaming of Ulrike Meinhof
You were my sweet terrorist
Who hijacked my heart
And blew it to smithereens!
I remember our secret tryst
When the moon shone on your raven hair,
And the first time that we kissed
Was like an answer to a desperate prayer;
Of all the girlfriends that I've missed
I miss you most -
I've wandered the Berlin streets
A disconsolate ghost,
Riddled with bullets of grief.
I raise a toast to you,
Hoping you'll come back
To shatter our complacency,
Offend our bourgeois decency,
With actions that people deplore,
Bringing to our fading imaginations
The violent charisma true poets adore.
poem
by
John Thorkild Ellison
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