Hipster time capsule- a.k.a Gelato Vero

It has to be

At least a few

Years

Since the last

Time

I was here-

Even just

For a coffee.

The last time

I sat here

Upstairs

And tried

To write

Must have been

Nearly

Twenty years ago…

And yet

The same hipsters

Are here-

Even the same

Buzzcocks album

Blaring through tinny speakers.

The same mix

Of earnest students,

Studying and reading,

And recovering

Scene monsters,

Fresh from their caves

With hangovers

Plastered across their faces

At 3:00PM on a Saturday.

The quiet writers

And artists

Still sit along the edges

Soaking it in

And storing the images

Away.

The only thing new

Is the glow

Of laptop screens

And the constant

Buzz, beep, chirp and vibration

Of cell phones.

So many years ago,

Since those days

When I lived here

With notebook in hand

And fingers stained

With Waterman or Mont Blanc

Fountain pen ink-

Trying so hard

To be taken seriously

As an artist,

As a writer,

As a poet of consequence.

After more than twenty years

Of serving coffee

To the hip,

The cool

And the creative,

“The Gel” remains

And even with new faces

Is like a giant orb

Of amber

With all its cracks

And fissures,

With tiny insects

Frozen forever

In time.

Timothy Vance Jackson

June 27, 2009