When The Fox Hears The

I Found, And Find, The Scrutiny Of Dr. Lecter Uncomfortable, Intrusive, Like The Humming Of Your Thoughts When They X-ray Your Head.

Gratitude’s Got A Short Half-life, Clarice.

When The Fox Hears The Rabbit Scream He Comes A-runnin', But Not To Help.

In Her Way, She Was A Hard One. Faith In Any Sort Of Natural Justice Was Nothing But A Night Light; She Knew Of That. Whatever She Did, She Would End The Same Way With Everyone Does: Flat On Her Back With A Tube In Her Nose, Wondering, "is This All?

In The Vaults Of Our Hearts And Brains, Danger Waits. All The Chambers Are Not Lovely, Light And High. There Are Holes In The Floor Of The Mind, Like Those In A Medieval Dungeon Floor - The Stinking Oubliettes, Named For Forgetting, Bottle-shaped Cells In Solid Rock With The Trapdoor In The Top. Nothing Escapes From Them Quietly To Ease Us. A Quake, Some Betrayal By Our Safeguards, And Sparks Of Memory Fire The Noxious Gases - Things Trapped For Years Fly Free, Ready To Explode In Pain And Drive Us To Dangerous Behavior.