Prelude to a Flashbulb

The death in the pool had put a damper on things--
for some reason blood seemed to seep and spread, infiltrate--
and make messes at an exponential rate

With each passing minute, the chance to explain myself was dissipating
drunkenness seemed too plausible
rage seemed too predictable
voyeurism wasn't something laced with empathy
but was certainly worthy of the Chronicle

It is what it is--
I'll call it a mistake
a lapse in judgment
a bullet in my arm and a bullet through the salon would illustrate the dilemma at hand
a periwinkle handkerchief for the prints

And now my blood--too--would stain the cement by the pool--
I reported an intruder, a murderer, the scene of an unlikely crime;
and at once, I promptly parked myself on the diving board for a tan

After all, being sunkissed would be important for my close-up.