jimmy’s

Vincent van Gogh View from Theo’s Apartment 1c uhR 1887 (Vincent van Gogh, View from Theo’s Apartment, 1887)
Father liked to sit on the stool Bob Dylan farted on.
Mother liked to sit on the hammock on the porch, the yellow ropes leaving red tartan squares on her ass.
Daughter lay down on the carpet. She lived in those patterns, dreaming of Scotland.
Son drank a Moscow Mule. He disliked their summer rental.
Mother and father went to the tall grass garden and right there, right there, they did it. In front of the forest, in front of the wind.
Daughter could sense it, down on that rug, the paisleys making bug shapes.
Son could sense it, the mule in his drink humped another.
Mother and Father pretended they were old, complaining about the lamb chops and sauv, but they were as young as billie goats, burrowing their horns in hills in search of red ants to snort. Mother got grass burn on her back and father got a tick bite, soon just a mole on his shoulder.
Serves you right, daughter said on the drive back home, and Yes the son added.
“Forever young,” Father sang.Ohara Shōson (Ohara Shoson)

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