Vodka Lady Poem by Kevin Eaglesfield

You still want more of less
Especially the forty.
Do you speed through the rest
To reach the forty at the bottom,
And race through dignity and respect
To reach the blinkers
Lying in the dregs?
Ex is the forty of exist,
But that's the bit you dance with,
Spinning like a fairground waltzer
While the outside doesn't matter
When it's blurred and far away.
You'll fall so far when it stops.
I know what you'll land on
And how few hands to help you up.