In New York, the western part,
On micro roads, not found on a chart,
Fields, farms and pastures galore,
Acres between each lonely barn door.
Cruising down the tiny lanes,
Suddenly, my neck swivels and cranes!
There, riding on her bladed throne,
A country woman, her grass half-mown.
“Look!” I squeal, and point her way,
“She’s riding a mower!” I continue to say.
Todd stops, thinks, then whips a U,
Back to the farm of You-Know-Who.
“You gotta go ask,” he says as he takes charge,
“Who, me? I can’t. My balls aren’t that large!”
Then he pulls right up to her lawn,
Looks in my eyes, and says, “Go on!”
I slink out of the Ford, start my walk up the grass,
Feeling sudden cases of nausea and gas.
I give a lame, sheepish wave,
Trying my best to show I’m brave.
She snaps off the engine, wipes her brow,
Who is this walking towards me right now?
“I hate to bother you, while you’re hard at work,
Chances are, you think I’m a jerk.
You see, I have this Buttkick List,
And I’m hoping you could give me an assist!
Taking a ride on your mower here,
Would allow a check mark on Item #14 to appear!
Sounds freaky to you, I’m totally sure,
But in SoCal, mowers like yours are obscure.”
Trying to read her – Did I strike a chord?
Yes! A smile, then, “Climb aboard!”
Gretchen explains the buttons and knobs.
My heart responds with thumps and throbs.
Off I go, giggling like a tyke,
Who’s super stoked on a snazzy new bike.
The path I carve is a little wonky,
I could have done better on a wild donkey.
I don’t care, the fun is obscene,
And this afternoon, I am the Mowing Queen!
~Click below to watch the ride :)~