Telling the Truth by David Boski

she called me when I was
at work, hysterical, crying
and trying to compose herself
as she said: “I have something
to tell you.” I was worried,
immediately I thought she was
pregnant or worse and I said:
“relax, calm down, what’s wrong?
just tell me.”
“the clinic called me and I’m so
sorry, this is so embarrassing,
but they told me I have gonorrhea
and I gave them your name and
number so they might call you but
I told them I would do it” she said
still crying and trying to catch her
breath.
“what the fuck? are you sure? I feel
fine, what do I have to do?” I said
simultaneously relieved, pissed and
confused.
“you just have to go to the doctor so
they can give you medication” she
replied.
“ok” I said, “don’t worry about it, shit
happens, and I feel fine, take care.”
I hung up the phone and went back
to work and convinced myself that
this was some sort of sick joke she
was playing cause I went back to my
ex. a few days later I woke up in the
middle of the night and as I went to
take a piss, I felt a powerful burning
sensation shooting  through my penis,
as if somebody had stuck a blow torch
down there; I quickly turned towards
the sink and began pouring cold water
all over, on, and into my dick, realizing
she was telling the truth.

David Boski lives in Toronto. His poems have appeared in: The Rye Whiskey Review, The Dope Fiend Daily, Horror Sleaze Trash, Under The Bleachers, Down in the Dirt, Beatnik Cowboy, Winamop, Ramingo’s Porch, Cactifur, North Of Oxford and elsewhere. His chapbook “Fist Fighting and Fornication” is out now and available through Holy&intoxicated Publications.