A Starbucks Soliloquy
I’m sipping designer coffee,
Waxing philosophic against a back drop of counter culture,
Surrounded by intellectuals who wear slogans on their shoelaces like religion,
Wrists adorned in rubber bracelets that scream “Philanthropist”.
And I never thought I’d appreciate reality more
Then when I popped the liberal bubble that is The Happy Valley,
Where culture is pulped under the fists of the suppressed,
And we all sip it through our straws like daquiri orgasms.
It’s a vortex of individuality,
Identities feeding off the blood of sweat shop babies
They won’t ever meet,
And if you have
Then you’re our God(dess).
And environmentalists litter the ground with flyers for drum circles
Protesting a war that no one can touch,
Swallowing politics like Ritalin
With an anarchist chaser.
I’m choking on communism and hiding my mascara from feminists
Who insist that my smooth legs are a blow to their campaign for superiority
And have you heard who got fucked down at UMass last night?
I get trashed and pass out and defend Durkheim in the morning,
Pulling philosophy from napkins I stored in my pocket
For moments like these,
When my psuedo-boho style doesn’t give me enough street cred.
And I stick Ani Defranco on my playlist like I knew her,
Dropping Saul Williams like old keg brothers would,
Pitching lines from Whycherly in conversations I wasn’t invited into,
And they swallow it,
This watered down intensity,
This faux intellectualism,
This imitation counter culture,
Like it was as smooth as their pretty designer coffee.