Misleading Criminal

There were two suspects. At home, all were walking back and forth from the door on the other side to the other door of the separated room, forming an arc, as if to further the shame. The setting was untoned, vividly covering the clarity of truth.

There was a thin chicken. It was part of the parade. It was inside a big battered red plastic cage filled with tape to fully cover its appearance. It was making sounds and bumping all over the pavement, not really seeing what's in front. It was a suspect.

There was an unusual companion, the aid of a usual companion. She was wearing a turquoise dress that seemed to bulk everything against her silhouette. I saw a video where she was selling it well in the catwalk, from childhood up to now. She doesn't change. She was a suspect.

I saw my face from my mother's eyes as I face her, sitting on the passenger's seat of the vehicle. I was a singer like the unusual companion. I went some place where my mother did not want me to go.

I did not go far. I went into the kitchen where there were fine drinking and talking. We were listening to the things that made us stop.