It seems like there's blood all around now.

While walking down 18th street a few days ago, I passed a DC police car pulled into an alley, with its roof lights whirligigging silently. Far down the alley I thought I saw a few people standing around, but didn't bother to pause long enough to take in the scene. Almost immediately I spied blood on the sidewalk. A few dark red drops here and there, it made a clear trail that I followed with mild fascination. It didn't look copious amount of blood, but if the person who had left the trail had been running, it might have been coursing at a somewhat perilous rate. The trail expanded into a small pool, then curved in through the door of a hardware store. Here the blood was smeared, walked or run upon.

It seemed likely someone had exited the hardware store bleeding for some reason. I considered that my emergency medical skills might be needed, but intuitively rejected the idea. Cops were here; the people hanging around the store looked calm and unconcerned; I hadn't seen any signs of a person in need; and overall the scene looked like the calm mopping-up phase after the ambulance has left. I don't know how I knew this, but I felt certain I had no role here. I hope I was right.

Then, in a small town in West Virginia, a small red puddle in the street. Fresh, but with no other sign that anything unusual had happened there.

Then, as we walked up to a bar tonight, an telephone pole plastered with posters and smeared with the unmistakable shade of recently dried blood. It looked like someone had finger-painted with the stuff. It extended in wide swathes and tiny curlicues over the wrinkling paper surface of ads for local clubs, events, yard sales. There was a surprising amount of blood there.

And patients, of course. Certain kinds of wounds just bleed and bleed. I don't mind it soaking through cloth or towels as much as I do when it trickles down faces, necks or chests. There is something awful in a bright bead of blood sliding along flesh, leaving a vivid red slug-trail in its wake. Maybe because I know it's warm and tickles a little bit, like a feather or a kiss.