Starbucks mindfucks,
Superficial tit,
Here I sit,
Heartattack Mac amongst the hipsters,
Who’ve come to see and be seen,
Partake of a pretentious pricey coffeebean,
Balding bearded men adjusting giant lebanese scarves,
While young women with laptops look at pictures of themselves,
And I just melt into the corner with my black Americano,
Musing at the fusion of jazz and ego,
Smiling to myself.
I had to take refuge at Starbucks for a few days when my ISP was knocked offline a few years ago. I wanted to put up a sign that said “ISP having issues. Legitimate work being done here. Not a hipster.” Back then, I was smoking cigarettes and since I always look gloomy, I figured no one would believe me.