Do I Trust Myself? A Revolutionary IMbic IMprov Poem

“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
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.


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One Response to “Do I Trust Myself? A Revolutionary IMbic IMprov Poem”

  1. S Says:

    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

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