My shoes are like a doorway into a party where everyone cheers
when I step in; moving like comforting hugs where ground and
foot slide together as if I’ve always been running together.
Only my breath holds back my movement around the track,
only my burning lungs are furious against my feet’s singing glee.
My shorts are like your hands around my butt spent from sex
and you’re playing with my skin while I scroll for music on my phone,
as if it is the first times you’ve seen my cheeks spread apart for you.
Only my running keeps me from tickling myself over the fabric,
Only my thighs slipping against the material hides my wedgies.
My bra is like your hands around my chest when you grope me from behind
and I’m smiling arched back to press my ass into your crotch, running
against the constraint as if you’re pinching my nipples every lap.
Only my breasts too heavy and sore interrupts my cadence,
only my shame slows my pace to slow their bouncing.
*****I’m dissappointed in this poem. I don’t like the last two sections and think it should stop with the first two stanzas. I’ve put a horizontal line where I wanted to stop. I think I got too distracted and bored to finish it well. I included it here so you can see my first draft of it and let you comment. I feel like the sexual imagery is too forced for it to be effective and while it convey’s my initial intent, does not do justice to the language I want it to. *****