Hold my hand
as we wander through this cold city
Exploring thrift stores,
sipping the golden aqua of tea
Inhale the musty smell
of old books on shelves
and feel the different fabrics
beneath your fingertips
Admire the vintage cassette players
from the 1980s
and the imprint of Michael Jackson
on vinyl discs
Let’s go back in time
far from the present
I’ll go wherever these wrecked buildings take me
As long as it is you
that I bring

You see her in the coffee shop
Out of local mainstream
Sipping her black coffee
In her skinny gray jeans

You see her ambling round town
In the places no one goes
Her wild auburn hair
Hiding the white earphones, the players
Of music, only exclusive to her
Like a band at its first gig

You see her in food stores
Drifting between aisles
With an aura of mystery
Where she buys only coffee and kale

You see her browsing thrift stores
Picking out clothes
White shorts, button downs, black tights
You know she can afford more, but
You know that this is her style.

The style of the hipster.