I think of many things grunting along behind a scraggly old push mower. I think of the riding mower sitting in the garage desperately needing mechanical therapy. Waiting. Dark, brooding, and greasy its engine sways from the roof beam like a robot suicide. I think about rocks and blades. Immense and ancient rocks rising from the grass surface. Icebergs awaiting a Briggs & Stratton Titanic. Collision. Metal blades bark out a raspy chime of exclamation. I think of Ms. Granville who sliced her toes off using a push mower. We were nasty little boys, stealing goose berries from bushes in her back yard. Taunting her. Running. Always running. Imagining the worst of her missing toes and what might have replaced them. Young minds filled with movie villains sporting evil prosthetics. I think of the specifications of a push mower as compared to a riding mower. Twenty inch swath vs. forty eight. Shoved vs. propelled. Walk vs. sit. Days vs. hours. Mentally I attempt to calculate the area of a two acre lawn as covered by 20 vs. 48 inch spots. Some math is just too sad. I think of a headline flash from a supermarket rag: what WILL celebrity A do about the affair between celebrity B and C? Who told the subconscious to pick up and store this crap? Lawn mowing must jar the brain, small and petty thoughts dislodged, floating to the top. I think of the small, noisy, smokey combustion engines foistered into yard care devices. I think of a bright, golden day when all of our tools are silent, friendly, electric servants. Mulch piles generating methane run through clever ceramic hydrogen conversion modules coming out sparkly clean electric. It's a fifties dream shaded aquamarine. I think of the clouds of black flies wedging their way under hat brim, sock lip, and underwear elastic. Injecting, biting, drinking deep. Random sorties into an ear, eyes, and nose resulting in mad flailing and slapping. The same loss of focus that probably got Ms. Granville's toes. I think of patterns inside of patterns overlaying patterns. If a circular turn is made around the base of this tree followed by a straight line to the southern perimeter will it bisect the yard in such a way as to minimize wasted overlaps? If one goes in ever decreasing circles is it more efficient and less interruptive than back and forth rows with a sharp three sixty turn at each terminus? What will Celebrity A do?

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