in a parallel universe we are running away

as we speak. we are everything the word elope signifies,
a sticky note on the countertop, goodbye scrawled
in my messy cursive. pooled our piggy bank money
into our pockets, everything we’ve been saving
since the very beginning. we’ve rented a car—
something inconspicuous, untraceable,
as camouflaged as an amber alert dream.
we bring blank journals, writing poetry
at the middle-of-nowhere pit stops,
this one’s about the future!
where you fill up our tank with the fuel
that gets us places, taking turns sipping
from a sticky glass of Coca-Cola,
the sugar burning our throats
like the memory of what we’re running from.

in this world we are never found.
no one ever catches us in the wild,
dazed in a failed dream. in this world
the engine never sputters.
nor do we run out of time
or places to hide away.

we’re just running, you and I,
on something
as dangerous
as hope.

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