The Private Eye
It’s a cold dark night on this end of town
The street lights above flicker to a rhythm
Standing, waiting, why? I don’t exactly know.
But I’ll continue here and remain a shadow.
There, the door opened and she walked out.
She was a beauty, makeup done so right.
The show was flawless, she was perfection.
She turned to her friends and said goodnight.
Stepping out to the street, she hailed a taxi,
“Fifty second and third, quickly” she said.
The Whitman Motel, room 303 like always
Is where she meets that man, takes him to bed.
A sorry life she has, a sick husband at home,
But she finds the time to get what she needs.
I, I work for the husband. Paid eyes for him,
In the morning I’ll give him the pictures to see.
Who knows what will happen after the news,
Confirmation of suspicions, proof to be shown.
Will they divorce, or will it be much worse?
I don’t really care, no reason to know.
My next job waits. A woman will pay me.
Husband works late each evening she thinks.
But, I’ll do some digging and report the good news
Then spend all the dough on cheap broads and drinks.
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