Written for Spander Haiku day.

I Remember Haikus from English Lit


From Xander
to Spike

OK, I get this.
Poetry is for poets
Born in another

Age. Not for bowlers.
Not for me who only squeaked
By in Lit. With help.

You lit your cigarette
(See, I messed up already!)
And I watched your hands.

My mind on your hands.
My mind on your hands at work,
At home, while driving

And, well, if I am
Ashamed of what I did next
You'd never find out.

(But when alone I
Pretended my hands were yours.
And I called your name.)

The End

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