Because because because: CSI: Fixation
The schizophrenic at the gas station said he doesn’t like Star Trek. Doesn’t like it. Never liked it. Doesn’t like it. You know what he likes? He likes CSI.
Yeah, says the girl in the too-tight tee shirt and pajama bottoms. CSI. She’s standing by the trash can and the trash can stinks, but it’s under the shade of a tree on the sidewalk and close enough to the crime tape, so she and I stand there and watch.
Three detectives are up by the back window in black suits, looking at broken glass. Cops are coming and going through the front door and the camera men are shooting B roll while the broadcast women talk shit and shop in their TV hair. Somewhere, so we can hear but I can’t see, somebody’s mother is breaking down with broken wails of no. No no no no no no no.
Man was murdered inside this morning. Shot in the bedroom at the top of the stairs and on the stairs and down the stairs, shot in the arm and the hand and the leg, in the chest and stomach and head. Man’s dead, and I’m waiting with the media people for some sort of answer, an explanation of what's known: names, times and facts. I’m waiting, with the girl under the tree, for a comment.
Did you know Tray? I say.
’s ’at who died? she says and I tell her, that’s what the cops say.
Sure I knew Tray, she says, but when I ask her what he was like she’s distracted by a woman wearing blue and yellow letters: CSI. The crime scene technician is ducking under the crime scene tape and a TV woman barks Get that! The girl in the pajama bottoms, standing on the sidewalk by a trash can by a crime scene, in the middle of a Friday afternoon, she starts to coo ooooo. CSI. ’is like, CSI: Clayton County. I like that show.
She says it like she’s discovering the fact, as we talk. Like she didn’t know and now, she’s thinking about it and she realizes how much she likes CSI.
The schizophrenic said it sort of like that too. He said it like a self-revelation, He tried to say why he liked it, say why and why it was important -- because because because -- but he was pushed past me, down to the bus, and drifting off in mutters.
I try to get the answer from the girl, not why CSI, but why here, why out here? She’s left me though, and she’s standing in front of the cameras, pulling her shirt down so her tummy doesn’t show, saying Tray was such a nice man.