Dear Clarice
I have followed with enthusiasm
The course of your disgrace and public shaming
My own never bothered me, except for the inconvenience of being incarcerated
But you may lack perspective
In our discussions down in the dungeon
It was apparent to me that your father, the dead night watchman
Figures largely in your value system
I think your success in putting an end to Jame Gumb's career as a couturier pleased you most
Because you could imagine your father being pleased
But now, alas, you're in bad odor with the FBI
Do you imagine your daddy being shamed by your disgrace?
Do you see him in his plain pine box crushed by your failure?
The sorry, petty end of a promising career?
What is worst about this humiliation, Clarice?
Is it how your failure will reflect on your mommy and daddy?
Is your worst fear that people will now and forever believe
They were indeed just good old trailer camp, tornado-bait, white trash?
And that perhaps you are, too?
By the way, I couldn't help noticing on the FBI's rather dull public website
That I have been hoisted from the Bureau's archives of the common criminal
And elevated to the more prestigious Ten Most Wanted List
Is this coincidence, or are you back on the case?
If so, goody goody
I need to come out of retirement and return to public life
Clearly this new assignment is not your choice
Rather, I suppose it is part of the bargain
But you accepted it, Clarice
Your job is to craft my doom
So, I am not sure how well I should wish you
But I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun
Ta-ta
