Hipster

Out and about

It’s amazing
how a city,
your city,
can affect
how you take
the world.
This bearded guy
serving my beer
is a douche…
40 miles north
of here.
Here,
however,
in this town,
tonight,
he is one of ours.
If I were stopped
at a traffic light
I might find room
in my heart
for disdain
of he
and his ilk,
but with my beer
in his hand
all I feel
is kinship
and understanding.

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Without one drop of irony

I was listening to a song of the psychedelic sixties
and I thought to myself,
“all of this was done
without any of the digital trickery
of today.”
The producer didn’t know
that such things existed,
nor that he was working
in what today
would appear to be
a very minimalistic fashion
with rudimentary tools.
And then I thought,
with this thought in mind,
about Mozart:
He had no recording studio,
no way to save anything
except on sheets of paper.
Forced to hear his music only live,
all while wearing ridiculous clothing. Mozart was a hipster.
If time ran backwards
we would all be
slowly becoming hipsters
as we return to the family farms,
to a hand to mouth existence;
home made clothing
and your butcher
lives next door.