4 Touch Memory Haiku (non-traditional) Part 1


My dad carried me

like I was born from his body.

We danced like an old couple.


The way you touched her soft dark thigh

like touching your own cheek.

I watched like a prude.


Your thumb shot sparks through my spine.

As you carried on like nothing happened,

And I pondered the ecstasy of light switches.


Twins raced in opposition

with your big hands on my shoulders.

I faced you and stayed hidden.




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