“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.