My Jog

(Composed in my head while jogging and walking around Lake Union last night.)

My buds blow bass in my ear,
Tickling my drums,
Tinny tunes help my body,
Find the rhythm.

They say women don’t sweat,
We glow,

We have glands,
Producing salty beads,
Cooling our strong curves.
Soaking each layer of wicking-wear.

Cleansing us.

Feet hit pavement.
Shocks find their way through joints,
We push forward.

Dancing in inertia.