she was examining a map
of Los Angeles.
it was Los Angeles…
has led me to trouble
more times than I’d care to remember.
I once assumed a hop head wasn’t packing.
He pulled a gat and pumped my leg
with a couple of slugs.
I watched her
from behind a newspaper.
She looked nervous.
A hack pulled up,
she took the back seat.
I tailed from two cars behind.
Just another day
as a Private Investigator.
Shamus, peeper, bird dog, blood hound;
that’s what I’m sometimes called
by people who like me.
Usually, they’re not so polite.
Sample my books for free — proceeds feed the homeless:
Gotta Find a Home: Conversations with Street People