“Artistes”

They have quasi-flamenco shapes to throw…hands flexing like kids talking high-school Spanish in cold snap Arctic air.  

Honestly, I think I do them better. 

Do you recognize my gestures as being more authentic than theirs? Are mine quasi? Are theirs pseudo? Vice versa?

Ersatz hipster throwbacks, reading Lorcaesque poems to each other and pretending we’re not from Leominster, Massachusetts or Chepachet, RI.

I’ve known exactly one real hipster in all my time.  He smelled awful from all those years of walking the walk. I showered him with my fawning admiration.  It didn’t make him smell better.

I promise you, my fellow fakers, that this too shall pass.  If it doesn’t so be it, but I think you’ll be glad it did.  

I know
I think I am glad
that I think
it did.