“Do you trust myself?”
She asked.
I laughed.
“In what regard?”
As in, you invite me
over to watch cinema:
comedy, chick flick, drama,
popcorned action, mystery?
That there would be
no butter smeared on that
velvet, gentle skin, as we sat,
and watched the movie.
The only thing low
I would dip into
and slip into
would be a bowl
of buttered
popcorn,
not porn,
or anything like it.
Kernels I would just eat
while I watch,
and butter touch
and brush off my seat.
Do I trust myself?
Whether watching a romantic chick flick,
or Elf,
I keep my emotions,
and buttered hands,
on the shelf.
Tags: action, bowl, butter, comedy, drama, Elf, Emotional poetry, emotions, hands, IMbic IMprov Poem, IMprov Poetry, kernels, movie, mystery, poems, Poetry, porn, revolutionary poetry, rhyme, rhyme scheme, skin, trust myself
Cyrano Writer: Musings of a Revolutionary Romantic Poet 
March 20, 2009 at 6:58 am
Do you trust myself?
She laughed,
bowl of popcorn in lap
waiting for you
to dip a finger or two
and reach in low
and, no,
there’d be no butter smeared
on her velvet skin —
it would be all over your chin.
She smiles and sighs,
adjusts the bowl between thighs
‘have more’,
she whispers,
‘we’ve seen this film before!’
So you settle in
with your emotions
and buttered hands
deliciously within
reach.