We sweep up crack vials and plant vegetable gardens.
We turn abandoned shells into chic town homes that must be protected by brandished shotguns and secretly insecure stares that prove to the status quo: dealers who want to keep their territory as fucked up and hopeless as possible because that’s good for business; that I am not afraid, this is my home and I will die to protect it. But beware, if I must go I’m taking at least one of you with me.
We’re here before the yuppies, the gentrifiers, the high rise condos/shopping center with the Target on the first floor and 24hr gym on the second. instead we struggle to keep our organic markets afloat while the liquor stores who stock only 40 oz and moscato are over run with business-bursting at the seems with scurrying addicts like the rats that somehow always manage to find a way into our compost heap despite the fact that it’s fortification is akin to the federal reserve.
we are the foundation for what’s next. we are pioneers. we have no money but we are skilled, brave, willing, and able to build a home in communities that have long been written off. risk comes easily and reward is slight. But we carry on.
Soon you’ll show up late to the party as usual and lay claim to the once wasteland that we plowed, sowed, and nurtured; those who played no role in the fight will reap the reward. and we will march on, forced out by the prosperity which we ourselves gave birth. but it’s ok because without the challenge it won’t be cool enough for us anyway. You’re welcome America.

sincerly,
the so called hipster