To understand what a hipster haiku is, first, know what it isn’t:

“Boo-yah! Boo-yah, Jim!
We watch your show at my frat!
Biiiiiiig ‘Mad Money’ fan!”

A fortnight of work,
But I finished just in time:
New gown for Ren Faire

I brought my own lunch
To the bluegrass festival
And it got stolen

Jumping out of bed
Eager anticipation
I just love Regis

Yankees fucking rule
Haters say it’s the payroll
But they deserve it

I would never live
In a no-doorman building
I don’t think it’s safe

Intermission. “Rent.”
I just have to ask someone.
“Where is the Village?”

When I get my rims
When I’m driving my H3
Then I will be cool

Crunchy counselor
Go tell it on the mountain
More hugs, fewer drugs

I have no techno
You have no techno either
None of us, not one, have any techno

Alone, late at night
I listen to Black Eyed Peas
And watch VH-1

I work on Wall Street
I am dating an actress
I wear baseball caps

From Melanie Lefkowitz, Enfant Terrible

Organic wheat bran
The food co-op's sawdust smell
Anyone else hungry?

Cast out of Park Slope
Those goddamn baby boomers
Smug in their brownstones

Flowing, flouncy skirt
Wish I could carry it off
But I'm just too short