Lawnmower, My Love

Greggory Moore

As I pulled my motorscooter through the estuary of my driveway, I was stopped fast by the steely coldness of not just any lawnmower, but a lawnmower well-familiar to me. It regarded me askance as it rolled across the asphalt in my path. Dumbstruck, I watched it continue on its course apace until halted by the curbside with a gentle bump. I approached with a skulking trepidation. As I pulled abreast, it acknowledged me only with a sidelong glance, implacable. Oh, I tell you this, I could see it all immediately! If there was any mowing to be done today, it was not to be done by yours truly. But faith!, dear reader: there are always lawns to cut, and always those willing to be implemented for the cuttings. One only needs to push.