Tammy Darby


My psychiatrist Hannibal Lecter

Reclining on the cold black leather couch
Preparing my contrived views of what’s life's about
My weaknesses, objectives, dislikes, perspectives, and fears
And to the mix for drama's sake
I will add a spattering of false tears

His eyes were full of gray cold dissection
Bemused expression and advice
I accepted without any objections or argument
His professional and profound perspective of my life

When he referred to his odd life in future and past tenses
I began to wonder if in retrospection
Indeed if I had lost my senses
Eyes changing into ice,
Stare fixed and dilated
Listening closely with a novice ear
His worth I unconsciously debated

He then expressed his fondness
For sizzling Sweetbreads and Farber beans
While telling me in great detail of one client, in particular
A depressive transvestite
And of his long abstract dreams

As he referred to himself as personality number six
Suddenly his steel eyes began to shine and spin
I wondered if I had made a grave error in consultation
And would do so from the beginning to the end

Without word, reason, or warning.
The day came when he quietly disappeared
Intrigued and in my curiosity
Though he was untraceable
I sought him furiously for an entire year
He was after all a student of Sigmund
And I had little or nothing to fear

The postman in his crisp uniform
Appeared on the clock
Owing to the fact I was in his sector
And In my pile of mail
Was a hand-signed bill
From my psychiatrist
Hannibal Lector



All Rights Reserved @ Tammy m. Darby November 3, 2019.
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