The daily grind is a daily
grind down, or perhaps
a grind up if unlucky.
Grinding over flies
unsettled above the 
under where our
pavement falls sink-
hole deep and shoes
become irrelevant. We
are fine and then we
can only see ankles and
there’s no way out alone. 
Grinding beside doesn’t
happen in life. Only in
that instance of breathing
side by side without
knowing one from 
the other, being curled
like an infant inside,
invisible but bulging,
waiting at once to
become human.