no health insurance

the doctor comes
into the waiting room
and curls his finger
at you, you're next he
says, come on in buddy.
he's eating a donut
and smoking a cigarette.
my trust in him
has slipped over
the year since losing
my health insurance.
take off your shirt
he says, i need to
listen to your heart.
better yet, just unbutton
the top three buttons,
there we go.
he puts the cold
stethescope against
your skin,
and says, okay. sounds
good to me.
open your mouth,
let's take a look
in there. whew. onions,
what'd you have a
tuna sandwich before
coming in? i don't see
nothing. looks good.
so what do you think
about the game on
sunday, he asks.
who's your money on.
you shrug your shoulders.
i don't know, you
say. i've got no dog
in that hunt.
huh, he says, writing
something down on
your chart. what the
hell does that mean?
you button up your
shirt and hop down off
the metal gurney.
that will be
three hundred dollars
he says, cash like
i said on the phone.
you pull out the money
and count the fifties
out for him, which
he puts into his
pocket. high five he
says, and you put
a hand up, which he
smacks, before leaving
to get another patient.