There once was a hipster from ‘Frisco
Who loved Fitzgerald, fucking, and disco.
She wore tights as pants
And blogged long vegan rants.
She proclaimed bio-pics were, “All shit, yo!”
She biked to her job in the city,
Struggling up hills on her fixie –
The Parliament Lights
And the way-too-small tights
Combined to make all this quite tricky.
Each tat on her sleeve was ironic.
Her memorized quips were sardonic.
She called everything gay,
(She’s kissed chicks – It’s okay!)
And her taste in pop art was LEGIT!
I met her one night at a party
In a warehouse graffitied and artsy.
She was talking mad trash
Through her Parliament’s ash
And I started to feel rather snarky.
Within earshot I launched my attack.
(I was hell-bent on making her snap.)
I’d derail all her trends,
Empty specters, and then
To my judgment-free world I’d go back.
“Punk is just so Disney Channel.
Pink argyle’s the new vintage flannel!
Vegan’s totes out of fashion,
Like Belle and Sebastian –
The cool kids are ALL smoking Camels.”
One by one, her friends nodded allegiance
To the bullshit I’d claimed “Now In Season!”
They abandoned the queen
Of their hip, fickle scene.
How I gloried and ate up their treason!
Cool’s a cruel mistress, dear reader –
It’s forever outsourcing its leaders.
Now the hipster queen’s life
With “Last Season” is rife…
So be cautious if ever you meet her.
Disclaimer: The viewpoints expressed in this poem do not necessarily represent those of its author (me.) For example, I sometimes wear tights as pants. Thank you.