It was raining in Schöneberg
but we weren’t
quite
soaked.
On velvet seats
I whisper-
warn you not to finish
the popcorn
then whisper
regret,
hands clasped
under my damp coat
yours warm
(though there’s no guarantee
with your hit
and
miss
circulation.)
We talk while the film
rolls
and though I shush us both
I’m confused
throughout;
sugar and salt
mix in my mouth
while
Eldritch-eyed kisses
interrupt
promises promises
of a bath
when we get home.