How like a prison is this cubicle
So small I’m like a fish inside  a net
My heart beats with a rhythm unmusical
As with sharp terror I am now beset.
–
We humans were not made to be en-walled
Our ancestors were gatherers in the woods.
Now  industry  demands freedom be stalled
For production and  consumption of more goods.

And  executives in advertising   work
In  offices  where they  combine their words
Religiously like members of the Kirk
Yet envying the freedom of wild birds.

Can we  be ourselves in such a world?
Can we find the space between the words?