Ever since Valentine's Day, I can't get my first love out of my head. Perhaps what I remember most fondly about her was that she was a fast machine; she kept her motor clean; and, I guess to sum it up, she was the best damn riding lawnmower imbued with human consciousness and self-cleaning capabilities that I've ever seen. She shook me all night long, this one time, because I put her in bed with me, which was both dangerous and inappropriate. She was on the rebound from a relationship with a weed eater imbued with baboon consciousness (close enough, she said). I said softly to her as we mowed the lawn together, "Come right in, forget about him, we'll have ourselves a ball. I'm always up for dirty deeds done dirt cheap with my lawn equipment." It wasn't the most romantic thing I've ever said, but all she wanted to do was vibrate next to me anyway, and cut me if I got too close.