Public Eyes

Steppin’ off the car

behind the suspicious

chubby fella’ from seat 3A

I had to listen to him snore

the whole GD way

Now I can barely off-board

this blasted transport

without being crushed to death by

his hoggish physique

I’ll saunter back on

without so much as a blink

from the other dozy mopes

that think no one has

a thing to gain

from watchin’ people

get on and off

their mornin’ train

That’s where you’d be

wrong though wouldn’t ya

There’s a sense of trust

an implicit safety

in the public fealty

People always thinkin’

they can get away

with damned near murder

if they do it with a smile

and a tip of the hat

Well, there’s eyes

always upon ya

K.B. Silver

This was a narrative poem written with three randomly chosen words as inspiration—random words: Transport, Gain, and Implicit. I am a huge fan of murder mysteries, whether that be in written or cinematic form. My favorite series would probably have to be "The Cat Who... " by Lillian Jackson Braun, and "Poirot" by Agatha Christie can't go unmentioned. Her series is a classic, setting tropes of the genre and being borrowed from time and again for a good reason.

Something interesting I noticed while writing this is that my favorite detectives are male characters written by female authors. Of course, I've read Mrs. Marple and some of the Alphabet mysteries by Sue Grafton, as well as others over the years, but I didn't relate to Mrs. Marple or Kinsey Millhone. Hercule Poirot and Jim Qwilleran, on the other hand, are my people. I can walk in their shoes, feel their feelings, and think their thoughts.