Bother! What did the doctor tell you? You're too old for that! So, you'll just boil the toothbrush tomorrow, like new.
Boil it? I'm throwing it out! Sloppy seconds on a Harlem fly? Not me!
Right, sorry. Where did it go, the fly?
I'm not sure. It flew off, after I shooed it from the toothbrush. It grazed my nose and looped off into...oh, God-
What? Honey, don't, you're scaring me.
......into this very bedroom. The buzz of it was deafening. It's somewhere in here, now, lurking...
Biding its time- the entire pulsing centimeter of it. A Goliath!
Honey, stop. Just turn out the light and get into bed, won't you?
This would be the first time David was bigger than Goliath.
Yes, but this Goliath has wings!
That's why they call them flies. Look, I think you ought to-
There it is!
There! On the wall behind the lamp, in the middle of that spotlight.
Honey, are you sure?
Yes...like a period on the day. Yuck!
I don't want to see it. Turn out the light, quick.
(darkness; they continue their co-dependent chat)
That won't stop it. Where do flies go at night, I wonder?
Somewhere dark to sleep. Like everyone, I guess.
Yeah? Like where?
I dunno. All the more reason not to snore. Shhh.. Goodnight.
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Comments about this poem (Arghh! II by Morgan Michaels )
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