Walking through the graveyard in shoes that don’t fit me properly, looking at the stones leaning here and there…. some face down and others scarred by weather and youths.  I cannot help feeling anxious.  Everything is the same – old church, young trees, dead mothers and fathers.  I got my first blowjob here from a girl with scarlett hair, clutching the cold stone as I felt the twitch and the rush and I looked down and warned her something was arriving fast, at which she took me deeper and wiggled her head and my legs almost collapsed from under me like a broken cherry-picker.  Cherry-picker.  First time.  Get it?  Sigh.

A dreadful joke for a dreadful man.  I kick a stone around to make sure it isn’t dog shit and weigh it in the palm of my hand.  Perfectly smooth, decent mass, perfect missile.  The question is, what can I…