There's a ******* the checkout
With long blond hair
Restrained in a scrunchie
At the back of her head
Scanning scanning, far away
Smile, looking past groceries
To a future self

I see a dream under that uniform
I see a freedom in that face
She knows there is a future
But it's not held in this space
Uncloned and unchained, one day
She will fly, on the wings of a voice
With stardoms far cry

A till away sits her broken dream
She's about forty, slightly grey
Last week on a warning for being
Late, her dreams have succumbed
To a different fate, she had wished once
For a chance to be free, but now
Has become part of the corporate machine