Four Poems by Regie Cabico

This Is Beyond Cabin Fever

I raise a glass to the pessimistic foosball table 

to the jaded comedian, the sexy janitor

& the owl who dropped out of high school. 

A toast to Trader Joe‚Äôs employees sporting unicorn masks 

at the chili mango, freeze-dried hibiscus chip, cilantro ube smoothie aisle.    

Cheers to the ones who place blue tape 6 feet apart on the sidewalks 

& one way signs in the narrow aisles of whole wheat buns and bran cereal. 

Let‚Äôs pop a cork & splash champagne on our crotches 

for the very specific words I have yet to learn

& to the socially distancing practices of Wakanda greetings

& high 5s that are 9 time zones away.    

Let’s toast pitchers to the warrior hedgehogs training for Iron Hog on Facebook live.

Let‚Äôs snort several perpendicular lines of coke for the sloping hill that I am 

lying naked as a glacier on a black leather sofa staying in one place 

for hours, months, centuries, without moving.

I am a pastoral sunset of  bushes that blossom and burning bunnies.

I am the lusty destination of your confetti funeral or ash wedding. 

Toast me now with gummy bear shots & girl scout cookies dunked in tequila. 

Let us orgy ourselves into the next species of human evolution, the cabinet of life!

How Has The Pandemic Affected You Personally?

I dream in smoke. I dream in paisley. I dream in camouflage.

I dream I am the sidekick boyfriend of Will from Land of the Lost. 

In a virus-infested world, squids have mutated into a proprietary alien intelligence. 

We destroy them with sanitizers of vodka and coconut milk. 

I move as if an invisible harpoon is lodged inside my lungs.

I talk to avocado pits as if they were potential Tinder dates. 

I regrow scallions in egg drop soup containers. 

Every seed is a jewel. 

I label toilet paper. I can wipe my butt thru July.

My recyclables are used to build an alternative power source: 

a  hypersexed cage to store my pent up libido. 

I worship the sun. 

I use a sundial that breaks. I can’t get technical support.

I am The Little Prince in a mid-life crisis.  

I open my mouth and doves cry.

My trip to Paris is canceled.

I astral project to ancient Rome 

and find myself naked in a 3 way 

with Time & Time.

M√©nage √† trois in Quarantine 

My Ikea 
Mona Lisa 
light box 
eyes my 
naked body 
on a bed w/ 
a fat wet 

Christ on a Crock Pot

after Fernando Raguero’s “Christ on a Cracker”

Christ on a Crock Pot
Megan Markle 
   serving soup
Jose Andres 
    cheffing pastries
    sleigh bells off a roof

Christ on a Crowbar
  Arnold Schwarzenegger 
        at the gym 
Chris Cuomo 
   in a Speedo
giving Lindsay Graham 
        a schwing 

Christ on a Cruiser 
    slips in her tub 
Pope Francis
  on a gondola 
blessing dolphins, 
     lambs and cubs 

Christ on a Crabcake 
  blowing keys
Simone Bile 
    flipping off 
a beam board
sailing 7 seas

Christ on a Crapper 
Billie Eilish  
   ocean eyes
Idris Elba 
    sheds corona 
Doctor Fauci 
   catching lies

Christ on a Crayola
Kevin Spacey 
     posting bail
Justin Timberlake 
   cups a nipple
   fights to tip 
the scale 

Christ on a Crocus 
Beethoven riffs
      upon the moon 
Bette Davis 
      stealing focus 
      flings harpoons

Christ on a Cradle 
  Super Bowling boobs
    spitting  sonnets  
Mike Pence   
Sondheim tunes

Christ on a Crack House
Judy Garland 
  clangs a trolley  
   makes a brand new start of it
belting New York 
     from here to Bali 

Regie Cabico is a former Nuyorican Poets Cafe Grand Slam Champion. His work appears in PoetryBeltway Poetry QuarterlyBellevue Literary Review, and EOAGHCabico is the recipient of numerous fellowships from The New York Foundation of the Arts & The DC Commission for the Arts. He is the producer and publisher of Capturing Fire Slam and Press. He lives on top of a Trader Joe’s in Washington, DC.

Image: “Annual 2016-2017” by Alan Coon

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