The yellow plastic tape was taken down today
A man in a black windbreaker cut it down, rolling it up into a ball,
pushing it into his pockets like fast food napkins

The TV news crews are gone too,
gone for days now,
leaving tire marks on the front yard from their vans
several empty white styrofoam cups
and
a slow line of traffic:

Curious tourists, still driving past the house.
Eyes straining to see inside, past the drawn shades,
as if violence had still left something behind.

They will continue their pilgrimage for a few weeks,
eventually giving up only when tragedy occurs elsewhere.

I'll take a detour until then,
driving around the block,
until our neighborhood returns to grateful anonymity.

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