Just One More

I wrote this about my friends mother, and her unfortunate alcoholism. Its a real story.

Just One More

Pour me one more, I like my drink right.
Let me taste the Vodka this time.

Make it on ice, a small splash of sprite.
Wedge on the lip, a fraction of lime.

Blinking too much and repeating her slurs,
She tells me her thanks, such painful words.

I leave for a moment to the grocery store.
I return to the smoke, strewn on the floor.

I turn off the oven, scrape burnt cheese off the rungs.
She lays on the couch, more tar on tarred lungs.

Asleep like an angel, caught in the mire.
One day I will leave and return to a fire.