The good touch – a poem

You slap my ass,
I laugh and go into defense mode.
We knew the code of conduct,
it’s a favorite pastime we construct.
Chasing each other,
slapping around.
It doesn’t bother,
pleasure is bound.
This playful game,
keeps the mind sane,
after a day terrorizing the membrane.
We interact,
like social animals.
Still in for a prank,
signing a pact,
to not put up walls,
for this small pleasure I thank.

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