Fakery

You see them all the time,
the Stepford wife 
and her counterpart,
the bronzed over, buffed high sheen,
man bun walking in skinny jeans,
so tight they squeak...
HIPSTER as they pass on by. 

With a flower in the beard, 
the artisans musk hinting the air,
bees wax soap and a scent of irony,
the newfound Stepford-hipster syndrome,
 
Both are the same
but from different sides,
one glossy eyed,
over-medicated, 
injected perma- grinned. 
The other a living Subaru commercial,
planting city trees, 
while in the not so distant future 
a real life Bancksy dog will pee.

The urban sprawl,
the shame of it all,
the 1%,
the cost of the gas,
that gets her to the shore
while texting and calling in her oversized Cadillac Escalade,
that was beeped violently at it drove right past
A city zap it rental,
Toyota Prius hybrid sport,
on the Garden State Parkway
with a flowered bearded hipster
driving slowly with thick black glasses,
inside.

americaconfusioncultureidentityfree verse

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