Arsenic Lobster poetry journal
Issue Twenty-four
Winter 2010
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Jimmy
Sarah Carson

Jimmy's gonna grow up to be a toll booth attendant, and it's going to be awesome.
He doesn't know this yet, but, seriously, it's gonna be great. He's going to spend all
day listening to a walkman, sorting cash through surgical gloves, collecting a
moderate wage. In his backyard he's going to have an above ground hot tub. (He'll
never have an atrium, but that's ok, cause Jimmy doesn't know what an atrium is.)
On the weekends he'll have his buddies over, and they'll drink PBR's while steaming
open their pores. In the winter, they will brush the snow off the vinyl cover and
climb in shirtless. They won't shave their chests. They won't apologize for their
waistlines. Nothing bad will ever come of this. Fifteen years later when Jimmy
decides to move, the hot tub will add property value to his home. Maybe he'll get
another hot tub. Maybe he'll get a pool table. Maybe he'll get a flat screen TV. The
options are open, and, basically, they are good.

About Sarah Carson

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