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I want to be a hipster.  I would haunt a hipster bar.
In my ratty Converse sneakers I would riff on punk guitar.
I’d sport the requisite goatee.
I’d listen to the BBC.
With perfect hipster irony
I’d sip my PBR.

I’d be a leading expert on the independent screen.
I’d make a point of quoting films that no one’s ever seen.
I’d thumb through paperbacks of Joyce.
I’d diss that sellout Village Voice.
I’d have a hipster drug of choice:
Bacardi with caffeine.

I’d deflate your fragile ego with my sneering attitude.
If you copped to liking Coldplay, you’d be absolutely screwed!
I’d have a cool and distant air,
Affect ennui, though not despair.
You’d hate me, but I wouldn’t care.
I’d be a hipster dude!



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