The day I got Medicaid
Michael called me on the phone
and started chatting
Warm kind casual
I was so taken aback
I expected, I don’t know
Cold bureaucracy
Boredom
Maybe cops
Long call times and elevator music
Endless hold please please hold ma’am
I am holding
I am holding as hard as I can, trust me
But it wasn’t that
It wasn’t that at all
Michael chatted and
I felt distracted
He sure is chatting a lot,
I thought,
this Michael
He would chat
and then ask me
what I thought were
the real questions
in the interstices
of his chattiness
Social
Occupation
Last year’s gross income
net adjusted
annual whatever
On a scale of one to ten
what precisely is the weight in gold
of your flawed and striving human soul
Etc. and so forth
And I realized
He is keeping me calm
He is keeping it casual
and keeping me calm
This is fine, he is saying
This is okay
You’re okay
He doesn’t say that, actually
Not exactly
But he does
What he is doing is telling me
about this book he wrote
about his friend who was gay
He’s been trying to find an agent
he tells me
He is not gay, Michael
He met his friend in the theater world
here in the city
Michael doesn’t act anymore
Had a kid, got a job
Michael’s friend got AIDS
and Michael’s friend died
and Michael was there with him
the whole time
Even gave him
the little blue pill
at the end
Michael is telling me this
while he gathers the information
for my Medicaid application
By the time he finishes his story
my application is complete
and it has been approved
I have free healthcare
Medical dental obstetric vision
Free
All of it, free
I am
free
Michael gave me
free
Maggie Riggs is a poet and independent book editor in NYC. Her work has appeared most recently on the protest poetry website Love’s Executive Order.