Q: May I have one of your potato chips?

A true love story. We sit at the kitchen table
eating Saturday lunch. Too hot to eat outside.

Watermelon. And later in our double bed,
skin to skin. But it’s still too hot. So all we’ll do

is kiss. Thrice. And then we’ll laugh. You are
always so good to me. Forty years, and at last

I am almost learning
to trust.

A: You may always have one of my potato chips.