Ay Corona

Bigorexia, when you just want to bulk up
on muscle, or, Monexia, when you just want
to pump up your paycheck—

To buy beer. Ah, my dear Coronas, now,
we have nothing to fear. The cold sugar fatigue
from your liquid intoxication

floats bubbles through minding
this insipid incarceration.

I may be
locked down in Wu Han
screaming in the night
but I have my yellow friend
by my side.

Aye, Captain Corona. Godspeed.
Take me to the promised land,
wherever it may be, whether the
dreams of lies behind death's veil
peace from inebriation beatifically avail.

This poem is about: 
Our world


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