After the Lawn Man Came

After the lawn man came: 

“Why is yard work expensive? I just want some neighborhood kid to come over and mow my lawn,” he announced over the electro pop and cigarette smoke. He was editing a chapter of someone else’s book, talking as he typed without looking up.

“Yeah?”

“We could give them whole milk and a slice of bread.” 

“I don’t think neighborhood kids want whole milk and a slice of bread. I think they want salvia and fireworks and visors or whatever. And cash.”

He looked up. “In my day, I’d go around mowing lawns for the promise of whole milk, bread with real butter, and the pride of having done a good job.”

“No you didn’t. You grew up in the 80s.”

“Sometimes I’d leave with a satchel of real salt to take back to my family.”

“Your dad owned a limosine company.”

He looked me in the eyes and leaned in. “Real salt.”