I maneuver down the produce aisle.
A squeaky wheel on my cart draws
attention.  I catch their gaze,
eyes like burning arrows aimed at me.
With each whisper, I feel their words
whittling at my soul.  How long
will I be on display?  I’ve become
a convenient store tabloid, a mockery
to be scorned, sensationalized,
something for the world to ridicule.