The Morning After

The morning after, I trace

my finger along the edges

of the makeup smudges on my pillow.

Trails of mascara goop, lipstick stains,

glitter.

My pillow blushes in second hand

embarrassment.

The glitter’s gonna be a bitch

to clean up.

I’m sure I’ll still find stubborn

specks of it in the weeks, months,

years to come.

*

Wisps of a dream rise up like

steam to the forefront of my mind.

But it evaporates into the ethers before I can

glimpse it through the haze

of my hangover.

*

I eat leftover sushi for breakfast,

wash my face, and head to Planet Fitness.

*

No tortuous workout routines today –

No HIIT, no weights, no repetitions,

no inclines, no resistance –

just a straight up, no nonsense

treadmill session.

*

I jog and jog and jog,

the thin running belt rolling rolling rolling

round and round.

Morning news anchors on TV banter back

and forth, back and forth.

Bare teeth, shrieks of laughter.

I sweat and run faster.

My sweat splatters on the screen. It streams

down the cheek of an anchor’s

close up shot.

*

I need a water refill.

*

Stepping off the treadmill, I get that

phantom sensation of my legs still moving,

though they’ve stopped running.

The wooziness makes me stumble

for a step or two.

*

I rehydrate, rush out

the door, and drive

to the beach.

*

It’s still only 5:30. Blue hour.

I start off at a sprint down the shoreline,

leaving flashes of footprints across the damp sand.

But the waves beckon me to walk, stay a while with them.

I see a hermit crab exchange its old shell for

a new home.

Seagulls squawk in protest, fighting

over who gets to shit first on the woman

fishing on the pier.

A seagull dives and steals her cellphone,

chucks it in the ocean.

*

The waves wash the phone to my feet.

I pick it up. It’s still blasting a song from her

“Blue Hour” Spotify playlist –

“It’s a good day

(to fight the system)” by Shungudzo.

I wave to the woman and make my way

towards the pier,

her smile a beacon.

Echoes of night fade away as the sun’s rays ring out

the day’s new song.

The light glittering on the water winks at me a thousand times.