It really was an apartment
It really was in the graveyard
Converted from a mausoleum
Of a family that died out
Given to the gravedigger
He liked it, felt at home
Among the dead
And, he had secrets
One, he found the crypt
The catacomb below
Found it perfect
Perfect for his hobbies
For the captured ones
Down in the crypt
To play with
To teach his games
Torture games
Eating games
Until it became their turn
Among the remains
Of former players
The day came he
Didn’t come to work
The door found open
Bloody hand prints on it
Bloody footprints going out
Led back down to him
Seems one of his toys
Learned the game too well
Whereabouts now unknown

Bob Wertzler is retired from almost twenty years in the mental health field in California and Arizona. There are times the title, “Recovering Therapist”, seems to fit. In 2006 he retired to move to Western North Carolina to help and become primary care giver for his father who had developed Dementia. Before all that, there was work at various times as a soldier (US Army 1967-70), community organizer, cab driver, welfare case worker, wooden toy maker, carpenter, warehouse worker, and other things. He relates to a line in a Grateful Dead song, “What a long, strange trip its been.”