He was woke.
He'd been on a pilgrimage to Maté Latte.
His man bun was untidy and his five-day growth perfectly trimmed.
His mother sent him skinny jeans and quinoa facial scrub for Samhain each year,
and his lover wore it natural downtown.
It was the best of times, it was the hipster of times
and none of us were sure we would survive reaping what the evangelicals liked to sow.
But he was doing his best to elevate his vibrational frequencies with crystals
and fresh cannabis leaf smoothies.
It was the most anyone could expect of a Prius owner.
© Adrienne Veronese
