Don’t Ever Give Me Your Number Again

I went to the doctor and told him I was feeling like crap and a little feverish. He started putting blue check marks all over his pad of paper. I took off my clothes and he looked in my ears. Thick, black hair was growing rapidly on my shoulders and back and belly. I also pinpointed the rash and swelling around my neck. Give me your tongue, he said. I can’t, I said. I have an STD, he said, and now my wife wants to leave me. Certainly she will, he said. Is that a good thing? I asked. No. How did it happen? By having unprotected sex with an infected woman who wasn't my wife several times in one night. I'm sorry doctor, but does this have anything to do with me? No. Do you know what's wrong with me? Not sure. Do I have an STD? You might. So would it explain the itching behind my ears and why I vomit in public places? Not sure. What about the peeling on my big toe, and my completely sour attitude towards everyone and everything all the time, my obsession with firm grapes, the burning sensations in my intestines, the color yellow, and also why I cry almost constantly? It might.