You really do all the work down there
Holding me up all day
Meeting regularly with the ground to negotiate our next move.
You shove your head into this humid sole
coordinating with a syndicate of laboring limbs
To launch back up
Only to be brought down again
Like Sisyphus and his rock
Infernal
And forgotten
No more.
Your imprint is everywhere.
A sign
Of humanity,
The dent you leave,
The proof of the putting
Of people
Bouncing.
Sandra Jones 
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