a dude died on woodward yesterday.
his blood is still drying on the cement and toasting in the june sun. for the entire morning after he died, his blood was left to coagulate and thicken in globs. someone had tried to 'wash' the scene', which i guess simply amounted to throwing a bucket of water on the cement.
after that the wet cement died down to its basic whitegray and the thick ooze of blood lay dimpling as the sun rose and baked.
i don't know how he died. someone said he fell. which would explain the one puddle of head-sized blood that sat smeared and fat-faced on the flat plane of woodward.
but it doesn't explain the other puddle. the thick one. the one that looked like a bloody organ. the one that looked hacked up, chunky, cut out.
and it doesn't explain whatever horrible state he fell into, because of, during, or directly after. he died in front of comerica park and today there was a noon game, and yes - certainly i thought of all the tourists tracking back and forth through his cooked blood.
and yes, i found out, along with my coworkers, in the middle of the day. after we had gotten into the office. and because few people tend to watch the sidewalk they're walking on, and since we would have come across the path from the parking lot to the office, we all checked the bottoms of our shoes.