Incident on a quarry road (an oneiric composition-accompanied perusal)

oneiric composition thirty-five:

	An early knock on a Saturday door opened to a man & woman, holstered without uniforms, asking if I'd noticed “anything strange” within my neighborhood of: 

—Yetis punching at laptops perched on driveway garbage bins foraging for a free signal, 

—invasive species chopping at trees left half-leaning when they ran out of beer, 

—tarp-topped trailers permanently hibernating by the river with loose animals of all sizes & postures nesting between rows of rural collection-notice mailboxes clustered in same-last names. 

I answered "Around here? Hell, yeah."

	While the man stood near my car, watching the interaction with his hand near his hip, the woman explained a charred body was found in a burned-out car on a back-road near the quarry. 

Happening sometime while I was working a forklift in & out of forty-footers, the visit ended with a handed business card, “should anything arise,” moving on to the next house over with dead Christmas lawn-inflatables flat in the July weeds as I closed my door, glad I hadn't baked yet, to look through the newspaper for any terrible mention & discover strangely, nothing . . . I thought. 

The implanted image struggled to fade throughout the stationary weekend, locked in from the surrounding wilds overheard communally ambling just curtains away in territorial leisure-time open-air offensives.

oneiric composition twenty: