Wormfood
by: Shane Joaquín Jiménez
“There’s a graveyard in every city,” Scott says as I dig my arms to the elbows into an industrial grade trashbag. We’re knee deep in a dumpster behind a megachain bookstore on the stripmall edge of town. The smell in the dumpster is of dead things left to stew, as if we were inside the digestive tract of some rotting titan. Through the stomped and busted trashbags, receipts have begun to fly about us like quiet, inverted snowfall. A history of human transactions sent up from the ground beneath our feet. You learn something unique about the culture from what it has thrown away.
