Verdict

Arrive home. Jump off bicycle. Scream. A backyard crime scene confronts me. Blood, body parts, bits of flesh. Murder, no doubt. Premeditated likely. Stalking. For sure, stalking. The physical evidence blocks the gate. Call for help. Call the police. Call a friend. Call no one. Go inside. Find bio-medical protection. Go outside. Pick up evidence. Moist, soft. A beastly death still fresh. I glance around. No suspects visible nearby. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Which one? Regular visitors come to mind. Black with white. Orange with stripes. Black on black. Scene clear. Put away bicycle. Return mind to blissful thoughts of pastoral ride. Renew peaceful feeling. Plan dinner. Chicken tamales. Yes. With salsa, spicy.