Tuesday, 29 March 2016

self checkout

'89...cents
89...cents
89...cents...'
and like that for what would've been nine more tins of cat food
if the 12th hadn't been dented

and it was soothing and rhythmic in a weird automated way
with a kind of numb yet calming voice
that might've been comforting except it probably meant
that someone else was out of a job

1/12



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