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Jul 2019
Summer shandy Sandy,
The hints of lemon sour
Crack a bottle on the hour,
I practically drink it in the shower,
I should quit you but I don’t have the power.

A quick take to addiction,
My body gives into submission,
My friends all tell me to listen,
But it’s your cold taste I’ve been missing.

I struggle with the cravings,
Suicidal ravings,
Dashed to bits on pencil shavings,
Written in shame, but I ain’t praying.

Oh, Summer Shandy Sandy,
I miss the long walks,
The quiet talks,
The bomb drops,
Tell me to stop,
But I need to drink,
Don’t want to think,
About the hours later in the kitchen sink,
Where you and I could commiserate,
When I have you I don’t need no dinner plate,
You put me in a sorry state,
No real plans to situate,
But when I’m with you I’m feeling great.

Oh, Sweet Summer Shandy Sandy,
I miss the feeling,
This copacetic healing,
You’ve got my stomach reeling,
But my heart is hearing,
The low tone notes repeating,
The bottles chilled, thought I was beating,
Her sirens calling, but I’m still reaching,
For that sweet sinful cold embrace,
Of her twist off cap, and that smooth, rich grace.
Not actually about a beer, in case it wasn't obvious.
Cole Cummings
Written by
Cole Cummings
171
 
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