It takes just three trys to start the lawn mower up.
My backyard is big � not big enough for me not to have to do it, for not expensive enough for us to have to hire someone
My brother is 5 years older than I, but he will not do it
He will only say, �Looks like it�s time to mow the backyard!�
as if his observation now makes it everyone else�s responsibility
I asked if he wanted to do it
He only agreed this time after I�d told him I�d already picked up the sticks
I had
but then I told him I wanted to do it
So when the gas ran out that he could take over.
I start at the back and barrel straight through the thick, stoic weeks
the leave pile from three years before
We have no time for yardwork
yet concern for our grassy lawn only when next to the neighbors� verdant turf.
I just want to run it all down
hack it all away
where there used to be gardens, there are now triumphant weeds
Yet all of a sudden I am on top of a different kind of stem
a collection of grey blade guarding some fading purple blossoms
I hesitate, but only for a moment
As they stare back at me from the lips of the monster
Then I swallow them whole
The toil, the struggle
to thrust my mower through the depths serves only to elevate my anger, internal frustration
at having to mow this motherfucking wasteland.
The mower stalls � its blades are jammed
I must be more careful.
II
I clean its blades � I start it up again
This time I let the wheels turn themselves
I�ve only got a row and a half done
When it hits a snag, I wait for it to help itself
Then coax it gently over the bumpy terrain
I will not let it stall again
I might run out of gas
I�ve got to finish this lawn today
My mom said she�d pay me if I did
I had done the impuissant front lawn and told her I was just too sore to do the back
she said �Okay, you don�t have to do it this weekend, as long as you do it.�
And we never spoke of money
So once she had left for another fucking dinner party
I took up the task
I like doing good things without being asked, but I hate having to point them out
I always do anyway
Now that I�ve carved it down, I see how big it really is � so much farther to go with such a delicate motor chugging so mournfully away
I don�t think I�ve ever heard such a tired machine
How I use this machine, once or three times per summer
And I shove, force it over my ugly backyard
With no regard to its age or condition
And no thought to what would happen if it died once and for all
A strong cool breeze blasts me out of nowhere
even though it is not quite hot it is a living melody against my skin
I am grateful for it
So because I would have done it anyway, because of my shame for my lack of inclination towards being anal retentive
Why do I want the money?
I don�t have expensive tastes
I never think of how much money I have unless there�s an occasion where I need some and I have none
Usually these occasions are with friends
I don�t like the fact about me that I care about money
Even sometimes � even now
it makes me angry at myself
When I want to be so much like that boy
I�m a girl with sore arms pushing a delicate ancient lawn mower over an endless uneven plain of yellow-green weeds
But thank god this yard is flat.
III
Once I thought a couple weeks ago that the reason I think I don�t fear death is because I still think my life is a race
every moment is another one spent, and my potential needs to be kinetic or something�s wasted
but when I heard my dad say �When you get a little older you realize how much time there is�
And that makes sense
Nothing I�ve done has felt verified to me yet
like something I could feel
It�s felt nothing more than something done
not that thing done
So if I died it�d just be like removing me from a plane of things unaccomplished
and it�d be all right
unaccomplished things have no substance
but when you get older, you get settled
you have jobs where you do the same things day in, day out for the same amount of years that I�ve been alive
and so you convince yourself that it�s worth something
That if someone wasn�t there to do that job you�ve been doing for 15 years now anymore, hell would descend
bad things would happen
you start to fear death
because death takes you out of that comfortable niche that you�ve carved and puts you into someplace unfamiliar
a new plane of unaccomplished in a radically different format
when you still believe you�ve got things to accomplish, leaving would just be like anything else
a new plane of unaccomplished
you don�t have to pray not to die
So, I guess when you�re old
you have more to live for
ironic
I�ve lost it
Large ants and brown spiders scramble desperately for shelter in their newly exposed home
The field now so flat and uniform I inherit a certain sense of comfort
and my brother appears from the side of the house
and strolls deliberately towards me
I do not want to give up my lawn mowing duties
I know how to care for this old, tired motor
I manipulate it gently
I understand �
it�s been pushed to the edge and pushed over it
it�s hit the wall
it�s not sturdy
it won�t last
I know!!
I listened.
If I hand it over to my brother�s casual body
It would be something unaccomplished
The sore arms
The tired legs for nothing
because I would demand I wouldn�t get paid
but here he comes �
over the puttering, chugging lawn mower, he points to himself
I pause,
then hand it over to him
He takes it from me
My open hands pine for it in an endless reach
My digits tingling forever from the throbbing vibration
6/2/02