Latter-day beatnik

The man can only be described as sauntering.

Cigarette dangling above a greying goatee, flowing pants tucked into heeled biker boots. He is wearing a turtleneck, layers of thick blazers, a brimmed beret.

I wonder what smoky, coffee-bar poetry reading he's headed to, and whether he'll find other men there like him, preserved in nostalgia.