The original hipster, an elder to the beats, a ripe old junkie... he was way beyond his time, out of his mind, but totally in control. Suit and tie, prowling a cafeteria on 42nd, judging, maybe looking to score, chat with the guys, jot a few lines—who knows, this old-school gentleman was hardcore.
I quoted him in the yearbook under my senior year picture just to see if anyone would catch it.
"Continual dreams of junk: I am looking for a poppy field."
No one got it.