sixtwelveeleven, if you want to be technical.

but i consider it sixeleveneleven until i've slept for at least an hour or so(:


come on, come on, let's
go somewhere. my feet are
jumping and my mind is racing
and i can see it in your eyes -
you're just as restless as i am.

so let's jump in your car
(because i can't drive till july)
and i'll pay for the gas
and you buy a couple cameras -
and make sure they're the good kind,
the old-fashioned disposables -
and let's just run the hell away.

we can come back in a week or two
(or a month or a year or maybe
not for another lifetime.)

we can just hang out in your
beat-up second-hand car. and we can eat sandwiches
and lots of sour gummy worms,
because i know they're your favorite.
and we'll go to all the cities,
and we'll make a few stops along the countryside, too.

and we can drive all day, singing along to
your crappy radio, ignoring the static
just the way we always do.
and then all night long, we can sleep in the backseat.
just lie there, my head on your shoulder,
your arm draped over my waist,
under the smiley-face blanket you keep in the trunk.

and we'll talk about the world
and how we're going to save it
(but only if we find a suitable super-villain.)
and then we'll look back on
the days we didn't know each other
and laugh at how stupid we were.

let's just run away, it doesn't have to mean anything
except that we're always gonna be
best friends, just like we are today.

(and i promise, if we ever decide to come back,
we'll have the best stories to tell.)