vignette / a refreshing drink-

it’s a heat wave.

the spikes of the Sun jab my sweaty back

plastered with spent grass blades pin-

pricking my tortured 12 year old skin.

I’m mowing the backyard as I was told to do,

and not with a snazzy sit-on, rattling across the craggy

plain which is mostly patches of dirt.

this sucker takes muscle, of which mine

are still figuring out their reason for being.

the mower's fierce blades are rotating

like the fatal wheels of Caligula's chariot.

I’m a mess.

I was young and beautiful when ordered

to mow the backyard.

now I’m a sticky, smelly mess of sweat,

spent grass blades, and dirt.

now comes my sister, three years my elder,

young, pretty, and cool as a cucumber

offering me an ice-cold orangeade

from the great Frigidaire in the kitchen.

I loathe her standing there watching me drink,

prim, proper, and managed with care, waiting

for the emptied glass.

she was told to bring it back inside the moment

I was through drinking.

when I am, and after she does, I begin mowing again,

cursing both our young stations in life.