I’m pretty sure I’m lower than middle class poor but at this point, it doesn’t matter. I don’t check my credit score anymore - just know it’s laughable! So I laugh a lot. I’m - mostly by luck - living inside a wooded set of low brick buildings for those over age 62. In very high_priced Denver. My view to the West is the Rockies. Like I said - lucky. I’m one of the medically made poor. BUT I am now, as a result of more good fortune, being accepted at Cleveland Clinic for their liver transplant waitlist. And since I received that new liver, I’ve been healthy. And poor. It’s not a bad mix. Just the Murikan way back to good health. The journey stole my teaching career but made me a novelist. Not published yet - trying to beat the clock at age 75. I look around and WANT to help. I read Medium and try to support writers here. Thank you for your poem of irony - there’s an overflow today - so it’s better to catch it in poetic form.