by V. Blake
we can just sit here for awhile, and obsess,
like two rain men in the sweltering urban summer;
sporting scarves that are just thick enough
to be the only things capable of containing the irony of our beards.
we can maliciously lead one another further and further
into the kind of conversational labyrinths that guys like us devise
for the expressed purpose of tripping up anyone shortsighted or foolish enough
to even bother attempting to navigate them,
and the dim glow of the logo on your macbook
will obfuscate (on the undersized glass table between us) the already blurry reflections
of andy warhol, some bands we liked before they were cool,
and offbeat local angels with glasses that echo every anachronism of our facial hair
with twice the appeal and half the discomfort.
you probably won't even look up at me in time to appreciate how truly trendy we are,
because offering witticisms to the void about the superiority of vinyl and the lost art of journalism
requires no eye contact.
in the meantime, i'll be writing poems with words like "obfuscate"
and imagining perfect secrets swirling just beneath the styrofoam lid of my latte--
ones that could give me the confidence to approach the queen of the coffee shop,
sitting cross-legged and unconcerned with kerouac behind the counter,
just to let her know that i wasn't too self-consumed to be enamored
with her talent for ignoring everyone who returns here day after day
in an obvious bid to impress her with a hopelessly unapparent lack thereof,
while simultaneously--effortlessly--dissolving any legitimacy our ethos ever had
like a sugar cube into her chai tea.
if i ever get the courage to pull the lid off
and accept that responsibility,
i'll be sure to let you, and everyone i know,
(or maybe i'll just lie.)
Author's Note: I spent all my indie cred on a six-pack of PBR.
Posted on 08/02/2010
Copyright © 2020 V. Blake
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Jason Wardell on 08/02/10 at 07:20 AM|
There is a sticker from my favorite local coffee shop over the Apple logo on my MacBook oh god
|Posted by Jason Wardell on 08/02/10 at 07:21 AM|
Seriously; this is like a checklist of shameful things about my life.
|Posted by George Hoerner on 08/02/10 at 01:11 PM|
Great story Vince. It kind of makes the truth seem simple.
|Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 08/02/10 at 02:08 PM|
You and me both, man. One of your best.
|Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 08/02/10 at 02:50 PM|
Rich in vocabulary...imagery, and introspection. I enjoyed this very much Blake. Fine piece of writing!
|Posted by Ava Blu on 08/02/10 at 11:54 PM|
pbr man; it's the best. haha I LOVE THIS. This and you.
|Posted by Gregory O'Neill on 08/02/10 at 11:59 PM|
Nice Vince. Reads (imho) like a very savvy monologue. You've found "little corners" that are better not cut, and niches that hide little ideas that just keep sprouting up: the beard, kerouac, that space under the latte lip...good stuff! Delighted. Thanks.
|Posted by Linda Fuller on 08/03/10 at 12:01 AM|
Professional Bull Riders? Petroleo Brasileiro? Pabst Blue Ribbon? Do they still make that? Even though this poem makes me feel old, I like it quite a bit.
|Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 08/03/10 at 12:08 PM|
we poets are all Antony in our own way, we pluck grief or glory or tedium from the air and attempt to apply it to such forums as are collected for such purposes and given we have snatched all the grief or glory or tedium from the air can only hope the forumers are attentive and are receptive to such when we disperse it to them first hand. consider this forumer attentive and receptive to this well articulated ode to which I lend my ears and eyes and every other article of attentiveness and reception.
|Posted by Rowan Luis on 08/03/10 at 12:48 PM|
I don't usually make it to the end of pieces of writing longer than about 6 lines, so 1. congratulations on capturing my imagination and 2. i could smell it it was so vivid
|Posted by Lauren Singer on 08/04/10 at 10:16 PM|
i am ashamed and yet still in full support of this poem... its great.
|Posted by Anita Mac on 08/05/10 at 12:28 AM|
This is the funniest stuff I've read in while! No, really... And I love the author's note.
|Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 08/06/10 at 02:13 PM|
I am eye contacting you, Vince. You have this casually blow their minds creativity down so fine. Feel the love ;)
|Posted by JD Clay on 08/07/10 at 04:16 AM|
You know you're cool when you lay down lines like this. Or when you got all afternoon to kill at a sidewalk cafe with a straw and a pocket full of peas.
|Posted by Ryan Nardi on 08/07/10 at 03:28 PM|
I literally laughed out loud at the beginning of the third stanza. So good man. Photograph of our generation.
|Posted by Rachel Bennett on 09/08/10 at 02:46 PM|
I love it, man (second-to-last stanza, especially).
|Posted by Therese Elaine on 10/06/10 at 03:54 AM|
Soooo...I should return the skinny jeans I got you for Christmas then...? In all seriousness, living in a town with an abominably large population of these people, I can say that you have candidly, cuttingly and with no little amount of charm, captured the species that is no longer able to bear the burden of being homo-sapien, and so instead have morphed into what we know as the homo-hipster.
|Posted by Glenn Currier on 12/01/10 at 06:17 PM|
I have noticed the folks at the Starbucks in the Barnes and Noble absorbed in their laptops - only a few actually reading BOOKS. Your poem should be a warning to them... be careful... there might be a poet seated nearby taking everything in, mixing it with a labyrinthine imagination and spilling it out onto computer screens all over the world. Loved this, Vince and admire observational ability and facile wordability. Thanks.
|Posted by Veronica Phoenics on 12/03/13 at 10:26 PM|
this is sooo good! i laughed all the way through, you are just, such a brilliant and clever poet.