It was early morning, dawn, at The Saturn juice bar;
The doctor, my client, hired me, Frisco, PI, rock star.
She was suspicious, concerned, her husband left early;
In the evenings, around 9:30, he became surly.
The only cure, she said, was to put him to bed;
The next morning, in the gloom, sometimes rain, he fled.
Maybe he was drinking, these early morning jaunts;
He talks about six packs, but maybe there are other, stranger wants.
But I’m a detective, a gumshoe, a licensed PI;
Our office meeting put her at ease, I am so wry.
So I’m following Callahan, to find out what’s up;
Is this something sinister, or a tempest in a teacup.
He looks sweaty, shifty, and tired rolling in for a drink;
A mango smoothie, in a dirty glass, oh wow, that drink will stink.
He meets other sweaty guys, this is getting good;
I ready my camera, I sigh, could this be innocent, what’s the likelihood.
They talk about life, family, friends, and brothers;
What is this group, they are not like any others.
It’s something called F3, it combines Faith Fellowship and Fitness;
I’m not sure I believe it, but I am my own witness.
OMG, I can’t believe it, he’s holding a puppy;
Give him some penny loafers and call him a yuppie.
His wife shouldn’t worry, he’s working on the best version of HIM;
There’s nothing here for me to capture on film.
I’ll give her my report, I’m sure she will be relieved;
Although, with those early morning starts, she may get peeved.