I had never had anything like this before. One morning I just woke up with a chronic buzzing in my head, as if a fly were trapped between my ears. I reacted with minimal hysteria until I developed visual disturbances as well, in the form of stray shadows. “What do you think it is?” I asked pretty much everyone, even the girl with flaxen hair. She said she still had back-to-school shopping to do. And so I called the doctor’s office, something I maybe should have done earlier. An automated answering system politely put me on hold. By now my symptoms included suicidal thoughts and a classic bull’s eye rash. At least I got to listen through the buzzing to two of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons (“Spring” and “Summer”) before I was disconnected. I haven’t bothered to call back. I haven’t decided whether I soon will. The fly has begun to tell me things about myself that I don’t necessarily want anyone else to hear.
Howie Good is the recipient of the 2015 Press Americana Prize for Poetry for his collection “Dangerous Acts Starring Unstable Elements”.
Your One Phone Call 