after the run

after the run,
when your tired shoes huddle together
across the warming air of the register -
and your socks slink off to hide their pungent shame,
when your remaining armor
has been pulled with a grunt -
or lifted gingerly
from your glistening limbs,
and the hot, steaming rain
has lifted the trail from your skin,
once the bands in your legs
have begun to unwind,
after the heaving,
the panting,
the love you made, there
on the shoulder
of the highway,
the neighborhood trail,
the street where you live,
after all this has come to an end -
you sigh,
a knowing smile slipping across your lips
and coming to rest
in your heart.