By Rachel Nix
Let us elope, we said.
Was it rebellion, or is it love?
I confuse myself too often
trying to nail down euphemisms
that don’t know what we mean.
Either or neither and something like hope
beckoned us both
to a place
where rules are in place
and we are out of place
and we have to
drive on the wrong side of the road.
Chemistry never had nothin’ on us.
Isotopic equations and pie charts
gave us ideas and made us giggle.
We ruled the rulers
and forgot our additions.
We spoke in exclamations
and pretended we knew French.
We believed facts were funny.
Theorems and doctor excuses,
those were the things we pondered in bed.
Grammar forgave our misplaced thoughts
and told us to run-on,
so we mapped our way
to this place.
Steel-toed boots couldn’t keep us
from being stepped on,
but we went on and on and on some more.
Throwing our shoes at the moon
like fools, we felt free and honest in the glow.
Barefooted and whole-hearted,
we arrived at our own pace.
We made up ever afters
after we found our forever.
We had ice-cream on a couch
and called it
our place.
