A pencil thin
mustachioed kid
in skinny jeans
and twead fedora
ambles out
in front of me
as I turn off Dale
drinking my coffee (black).
I break fast
in early morning
traffic — he stops
looks at me through
thick black rims
as if to say
“How ironic,
your are driving
in my crosswalk”
I want to smack
the skinny latte
grin off his
hipster face.
~~~~~~~

With apologies shrugs to any of my readers considering themselves as hipsters.  This poem could be about Grand Ave in Saint Paul, or Uptown in Minneapolis.  Either way, both areas are heavy on hipsterism…though Minneapolis is probably heavier.

Luckily I probably don’t have a lot of readers from my area on here…which is also unfortunate as the rest of you won’t really know what I am talking about.

Grand Ave is a trendy street with a lot a nicer bars, hip stores, and coffee shops.  It also has a number of old apartment buildings that have been renovated and/or rented/turned into WAY over priced condos – a place as younger man I probably would have loved to live…but now pushing 40, I simply can’t understand anymore.

Grr…get off lawn kids! Ha!