You mow over a snake just like your father did back when you were very young sitting at the picnic table holding his beer and being USELESS while he reminds you with every pass that he wouldn't have to do your job if you did it RIGHT You jerk the mower back just like your father did You crane your neck over the front edge of the mower to see what you've done just like your father did He hated snakes and whenever the subject came up he preached from his threadbare La-Z-Boy about how much he hated them with the same spit he hated everything else like the neighbor and the police and the price of beer and Bill Clinton and the way your mother cleaned the house and the way your sister didn't look at all right And you His hate his violence made everyone around him slither away He angled the mower on its back wheels to re-aim and then with quick little back-and-forth jerks he creamed that snake yelling GOT YOU YOU LITTLE BASTARD and you felt jealous because that was the word he saved for you when you held the flashlight wrong or made the bed wrong or did this that and the third wrong and you swore you'd never be like him but he snuck himself into your personality You mow the lawn the same way You own his magnetic tug towards bars You know your son can do better than him And You The snake is writhing trying to slither away from its pain so the only thing you can think to do is you angle the mower on its back wheels and you re-aim it just like your father did But instead of yelling you whisper