| The Cashier As though I am encased in an invisible box, numbers of you come to stand in front of me, demanding my attention. But I am in the invisible box, unable to respond freely; Watched and pricked, my thoughts, my creativity smash against the clear confines again and again.. only to die untimely deaths; mute within confinement. © 2002 Ann Kupper background from a painting by Becky Mendenhall |
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