the hipster apocalypse

when the world ends,

there will be no vintage merlot

or aged cheddar cracked from

great waxed wheels

american spirits will become currency

-also accepted, coins pressed from empty pabst cans

and when funds run low, 

the only violence in the new world order

will be caused by a collective and universal

nic-fit

when the world ends, and the sun

is blotted from the sky

flannel will be repurposed to it's

orignal function

and beards will be required for much more than

to be, in some tired way, ironic.

the radio static will signal

every hour, on the hour

to anyone still out there, go North to Portland

we've got microbrews and moustache wax,

enough to go around

and from the great urban capitals, first to fall,

will come hordes of youths in plaid

kicking the rubble of their crumbled brownstones

and cursing a lack of wi-fi

when the world ends, there will be no

tumbles, flicks, or tweets

the hobbies previously used to buffer brew-pub

conversations

bee keeping, organic gardening, bicycle repair

will acquire sudden and monumental importance

and when the great migration from once-gentrified neighborhoods

commences, and the bearded, booted army

floods the forest on fixed-gears

we had better pray for clear bike-lanes

and someone waiting at the end of the road

with a camera

because even still, there is no journey worth making

unless someone is recording

and even though the world is done and we have been reduced to 

our most primitive state

they will still need something to blog about.