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

I waited in line,
Standing behind those in need.
Women, children.
Full carts, the other cashiers closed.
 
I stood in line,
Barely making it to the store.
Hurrying, grabbing what I sought.
Making it over to the line before it got longer.
 
I waited in line.
A deep thought, It never use to be so complicated.
Coming, grabbing what you needed.
Bypassing everything that compensates essential need.
 
I stood in line.
Barely making it to the store.
A different brand to replace something or another.
The P.A system announced the store now closed before I could buy a new heart

It was in total a fast track ticket to the moon
and I can't return to transaction dock 8 too soon
the star checkout lane at my local supermarket
tops balloons with rocket science aeronautics
that pilot's service areas binary counter perfect
exceeding expectations bent into global orbit

My items sped along to muzak her slim milky way belt
a smile beaming discount countdowns heaven sent
taking off in bit lips when her priceless item buttons
almost burst free to air with a strain of special promotions
helpfully assisting my every excess flight of fancy
made impulse buys a baggage allowance necessity

She stroked parts of her radical laser station
to fully engage hygienic wiped spills of imagination
and I felt the warp of hyperdrive tangelo engines
urging me into a dive to scan juice ripe tangerines
a last minute save fuelled by stalling flashback cavities
gyrating in tight nets as we escaped earth's gravity

With a twist of her wrist I was into fits-the-bill ecstasy
as the whirr of electronics cut loose such quality
with a lick of an index finger our mission was bagged
handled too efficiently for any danger of jet lag
no flyby chance to not exchange standby coupons
my trolley emptied of offers too galactic to pass on