Michael Malone - Weebly

Along the path they slowly plunked toward a lake
where boats bumped into one another and bottles
without messages bobbed to the banks. Roller skaters,
cyclists, joggers, pushcarts, and strollers raced past
them. Along the path flowers bloomed through the litter.
"Narcissus." The rector beamed. "We used to have
them out beside the front walk, remember?"
"Nononono. Poison you. Everything in my cabinets
is poisoned.
Every can, every box, every box, every can.
Poisoned through and through. Call the police."
"Exactly so, I know what you mean, Ma. It's those
horrible preservatives and artificial ingredients they're
putting into everything these days. Not at all like your
cooking. Dreadful stuff will poison you. Cereal tastes
just like the box, doesn't it? Such is Life.
But then it's Progress. The stuff keeps forever, they
say. Why, my goodness, look, Ma! There, rowing in
the lake with a man with a beard. There's one of my
parishioners. Beatrice Abernathy. The large woman at
the oars. What a marvelous stroke she has! Really.
Quite outstrips the rest of them. Too far off now to call