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,