the mungo hipster

remember these rich kids

who moved from downtown

Manhattan,

after the towers fell,

out into the uncharted territories of

Bushwick & those regions of

Brooklyn, which had once been

lined with 3 story houses (or fewer)

& whose skyline one could

see over,

when stores, music venues &

cheeseball clubs were

closer to the exception than the rule,

when there were genuine poor people

who dressed the way that they could

afford,

when these mungo hipsters

didn’t plague the land like the

rats that come squealing out from

beneath the garbage bags piled up

outside their loft buildings,

remade factories, which now serve

as high income palaces

with the guise of low income &

the sprawl of fake-poor in the land of

the

cool.

 

these hipsters would bump from

thrift store to thrift store,

shopping with mommy & daddy’s money

(now safe from the downtown “terrorist

threats”)

in order to look like they were straight from

the 1970’s, like corduroy everything

was somehow a part of the 21^st century,

like sideburns were the way of the

future---

parading with pocketbooks full of cash

which would allow them to frequent the

sushi bars that had sprung up or

pop from expensive café to expensive café

without a second thought

about the same exact dream that they all had

followed,

from the white picket fences in the suburbs of

bumblefuck wherever,

to transplant themselves into the

dumpster diving

“soul” searching

snot nosed brats

that lit the fuse for gentrification

all over what used to be

Brooklyn.