21/365

my watch coach told me to run
nineteen kilometres after school today—
so i did.

i didn’t have the heart to tell it
i only had 4 hours of sleep
after staying awake to
watch the poet
read at the inauguration.

or that i had been conferencing
with kids about their poems all day—
one kid’s work was so spectacular,
i couldn’t control myself
teary eyed and goose bumped,
“fuck! that’s so good.
where did you learn to see the world like that?”

the swear-word
like a lightening bolt
illuminating
what we both knew
lay in the darkness between us.

i didn’t have the heart to tell the watch
that we continued our anti-racism work
in my global concern group at lunch,
or that we workshopped stories
in the writing club after school.

i just came home
put on the shoes
and headed toward the quays.

i didn’t have the heart to tell it
that i was cold and bleary eyed
when the rain started
and the hamstrings started cramping up.

i breathed
put one foot in front of the other
and peeled off the kilometres
at a slow steady pace.

in the end
i arrived at a restaurant.
foolishly ordered
and devoured fries and nachos
and an india pale ale.

my watch coach told me to run
nineteen kilometres after school today—
so i did.