the outline

you see a chalked
outline
of a body
in the street
cordoned off by
yellow tape
and red cones.
the detectives are
at the corner taking
notes, asking
questions.
you slip under the tape
and go lie down
into the space
neatly drawn
upon the road,
setting your arms
in a way
that makes them fit.
your legs
and torso, twisted.
you turn your
head upwards
to the sky, as you
imagine the person
who was here
had done so
before he died.
you want to see
what he saw,
you want some clarity
in this strange
and mournful life,
but you see nothing,
nothing but blue
in the cloudless
empty sky.