I don't want to drive in my car
with no one in the passenger seat
except for my sweater and some Kerouac novel.
No, I need you next to me.


And I don't want to take me out for breakfast:
order, eat my oatmeal, leave a tip.
Crying through six refills of coffee,
wishing you could take every other sip.


We could live our lives,
or we could die alone.
But it's too easy to be happy.
I just want you to be happy.
It's too easy to be happy.


I don't want to send myself a postcard
of places I would rather be with you,
or write myself how lonely that I'm feeling
as if I never knew.


And I don't want to sleep all through the night
and wake up in the morning to myself.
I think I'd rather sleep out in the rain
as long as you could keep me company.

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