Lord Byron Couldn't Have Done Any Better Himself

Ode to Sonic’s Thirsty Thursdays

How do I love thee, Thirsty Thursdays at Sonic?
Let me count the ways
They number two score and four ounces,
One for each in that Styrofoam cup on those ruby red trays,

Every second from my finger’s release of the ordering button
Until we’re united in liquid bliss it an is untold torture mere full-priced drinks cannot satiate
Thank God for my carhop, Becki,
Speeding my beloved to me upon her old school roller skate

“Drink to me only with thine eyes,”
Ben Johnson wrote, in the days of Shakespeare and Shaw,
That’s all good and well, Mr. Johnson,
But this lover needs not two eyes, but two lips and a red straw

Route 44, you do not care my particulars when I order my drink,
Whether it be Dr Pepper, Diet Coke, or a cherry lime-ade with “easy ice,”
All you know, the most tolerant of all lovers,
Is that it’s your job to slake my first for one half the printed price

168 thousand combinations of pure magic... bigger IS better!
Indeed, you truly are the Ultimate Drink Stop
America’s Drive-In, what would I do without your Thursday goodness?
The planets would not turn, my heart would stop beating, and horses would refuse to clip--clop

You bubble in fizzy beauty, nugget ice all around
Wrapping me in your warm, yet cold embrace of carbonation and caffeine
Mere words fail to come when describing your greatness
Thirsty Thursday, you rock harder that Queen

And, perchance the Almighty might deign to issue forth an eleventh,
To add to that Ten that He, in Exodus 20, did create,
“Thou shalt remember each Thursday; keep it holy,
And set aside that time to hydrate.”