Runaways

I’m not sorry for cutting you
with broken glass
or calling you an idiot
while ignoring your advice
to both our detriment.

You just would not leave me alone
when we were walking through
the woods and all the birds were out
and making noise
to find each other.

I’m sure that stagnant water
would have killed us
after reading up on all
of our mistakes,
it is a miracle we never touched
those mushrooms.

There were a few moments
I was happy like those first nights
in our sleeping bags
when the stars were out,
or killing my first snake
while you were watching.

After they found us fishing,
with our blue lips
and our broken tent,
I was sure I never wanted
to see you again.

I now am old enough
that none of them can stop me
so I’m leaving
with those orange streaks
of sunshine.

I’m burning all these words
with just some butane
and the last sparks from
my cigarette in the hopes that
you will not decide to follow,

like the smoke from all this fire
does the sky.