"Well, we’d spent that summer burying boys who drove 8 cylinders of steel into familiar trees like folding into the fat arms of big breasted waitresses going nowhere soon. We buried sisters, brothers, would-be lovers. Unraveled bones from grain threshers. Swamped stalls and popped cherry in river banks where we rose like angels stinking of earth and sweet cum."
check out Dani Sandal's kick ass tale over at Baltimore Review: