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      September 14, 2022ElitesMaia Siegel

      We argued over what an “elite” was
      because you wanted to be included
      in that category and I didn’t, because
      I had branded myself as Appalachian
      and poor in order to be different from
      the billionaires I dated. I silently waited
      for the billionaires to buy me things, but
      they didn’t. I said I would let them have
      my virginity if they bought me a boat, but
      that’s not a gift, that’s a trade. If there’s any
      thing a billionaire can do, it’s bargain. No,
      barter. The billionaires would argue me down
      to a jet ski and then I’d freak out in bed so
      we’d never have sex anyway, and I’d never
      get a jet ski. A jet ski is an elite purchase.
      At first I tried to get them to buy me
      a microwave and I felt so provincial
      and cute and said things like We heat up
      our food in pots and it takes a long time,
      and I waited for them to offer up elite
      kitchen appliances, but they did not.
      I told you that elites all had microwaves
      and fridges that make ice. We had neither
      and we really did live in Appalachia, and
      not in the nice area with the farm-to-table
      restaurant, either. But we pretended like
      this was all temporary and maybe even
      ironic, because we were The New Yorker
      subscribers, and we had even eaten
      corn ice cream and charcoal ash
      ice cream and ice cream with little bits
      of meat in it. I liked to tell the billionaires
      about the fancy ice cream we had tried,
      how gold flecks honestly didn’t taste
      so good. They tasted dull and metallic. Sort of
      like blood, I guess. I waited for them to offer
      to get me something really good, some rare,
      rich sweetness. Maybe some of that adrenochrome
      that conspiracy theorists say they have. They said
      they were broke. They said that a lot. I told
      my Appalachian friends about the billionaires
      and they said I bought a belt bedazzled with tons
      of little gems once, and that was when they knew
      I was different. None of them had microwaves either,
      or jet skis, and especially not bedazzled belts. I told you
      we were not elites, but God did it feel good to think,
      for a second, that maybe we had been them this whole time.

      from #76 - Summer 2022

      Maia Siegel

      “I like to tell people that poetry is ‘a quiet way to scream.’ To put it simply, I just can’t stop screaming.”