Lonely Private Eyes

I empathize with lonely private eyes,
With shamuses and famous old gum shoes,
Who in old raincoats and plain clothes disguise,
Scope out hotels for late night rendezvous'.

Who spend their lives in search of missing clues,
And when inside old ghost cars they surveil,
Who hide behind the crumpled Sunday news
Their weathered faces that are deathly pale.

For when I write, I too am on the tail
Of some elusive shadow that I chase,
Some furtive fox I pray that I can nail.
And like Joe Friday and the Private Ace,

I also hope to crack an old cold case,
And search for circumstantial evidence,
For tiny fibers and a bloody trace,
I pray will close the file and can convince

My peers of someone’s guilt or innocence.
And it’s not always glamorous and fun,
I barely earn a pauper’s recompense,
And most nights my cold dinners are for one.

My unshaved face has hardly seen much sun,
And my plain clothes are just a sleuth’s disguise.
I search for truth just like a smoking gun-
I empathize with lonely private eyes.