Lost in Detroit: Belle Isle

<<<--------Don't forget to play the music

...all that is left is the dirty ring around the tub, the gook underneath your shoe that you don't want to know what it is, or the grime clogging up your toilet, but as I look around and watch the aqua-blue Detroit river turn into silver chiffon luminescent underneath the sun's rays that flutters above the silhouetted Canadian buildings, I began to feel like the pink accents in the warm, late-afternoon sky that makes you stop and gather its color to you, demanding your attention. This is what makes the world beautiful: overcome with sorrow while being embraced by joy, the little oxymorons that are so big our amiable bovine minds can only comprehend the size. But still my thoughts begin to sink in the mud again and I imagine a man walking along the jetties of the isolated river on Belle Isle, noticing me distracted by the music in my head whose notes seem to reflect off the water because I look mesmerized as I drift away. His shoulders slumped and his fingers twisted in knots, he fights back the sorrow that wants trickle from his eyelids as he sneaks up behind me. My head bobbing underneath my rabbit fur hoodie, I don't hear or see no evil. Before I can speak evil he whacks me in the back of the head with a familiar rock that I probably teetered on the brink for position seconds before and my body slumps to the ground. My body lay lifeless and my soul slowly escapes it's earthly prison. The murderer quietly pushes my body into the water that feels so cold that it burns my skin. Will I fight for my life and scramble for the shore or will I sink even further into depths unknown until the river bottom meets me?