doesn't know this,
but when she wrote a review of three Asian beers two days ago, she created a couple lines of pure poetry that haunted me for the rest of the day.
Cambodia is the youngest one. The national beer of Cambodia, the most popular, spoiled by a lot of advertising, in reality is rough and cheap.
It is the beer of the students and the broken ones.
For 0.52 of USD you can grow your belly without a tomorrow.
She was writing about cheap beer, but there was something heartbreaking and universal in her words.
The desperation of the poverty-stricken alcoholic. The callous market ready to supply and profit from unhealthy consumption. The universal resignation we feel when we take in something shoddy and bad for us with a sense of resignation and who-fuckin'-cares. Or when we know we're going to regret what we're about to do, but we keep on doing it anyway.
All in a review of Cambodia lager.
I had to rearrange her words in the mono-spaced style of mid-century American poet e e cummings.
(the youngest one)
the most popular...
in reality
is rough and cheap
it is the beer
of the students
and
the bro-
ken ones.
For 0.52
(of ewe ess dee)
you can grow your belly
without
a tomorrow...
I think cummings would have liked Sandrina. He was a traveler and an observer, and, like her, lived life with a lot more adventure in than most of us.
She also speaks far more languages than I ever will. And as someone who can flit from one to another, she winds up using words in ways that are full of unexpected charm and effectiveness.
In my mind, I see this poem translated into a painting, too. Alas, I lack the skill to execute it. Perhaps I can prevail upon 
Sandrina, I hope you don't mind my riffing on your excellent review.
If this post does well I'll send her the SBD to use as beer money.
Do you read poetry? Are you a fan of e e cummings? What sort of poetry do you enjoy?
Do you hear poetry in the everyday?