Served With a Wisp of Vodka

She appears, the known stranger.

She saunters in with a swagger in her stagger

Her voice rumbles in a mighty thunder of laughter,

the smoky and velvety tune, like a man's whisper.

She looks at me, reflected within are her many miseries,

which I counter with small pleasantries.

Meanwhile, she hides behind the smoke of her burning cylinder,

wheezing and coughing, everything's messier.

She drinks her coffee sweet, with a wisp of Vodka

A small puff at dawn sets her nerves to rest,

and by sunset she's already forgotten her direst.

She likes well-seasoned food, too, with a wisp of Vodka

Breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and everything in between,

so long as it helps vent her growing spleen,

should be served with a wisp of Vodka.

Otherwise, you're not so wise.