i sat back
all cleopatra beside kerouac
sure in my skin
wine glass in hand
noticing
women under 25
won’t sit their purses down
at parties
such a lovely quirk
they remain slung around their bodies
or clutched into an armpit
lashed to
a designer ball and chain
they haven’t been here
long enough
to not give a fuck
they don’t know everything will be fine
or trust life quite yet
i turned my claret sipping lips toward the king
sharing the revelation
he laughed into his sweetest smile
as he proclaimed
purses are a metaphor
for pussy
then complimented me
on the compact size
of my pocket book
5 replies on “purses”
Ah..there’s no-one quite like you, poet without the ‘S’ – will reblog ’cause these are not just words – but just tell me if you’d rather not..
I’m honored. Reblog, kind sir. Thank you for the smile on my face.
Reblogged this on Thoughts while on Forest Walks and commented:
There is no-one quite like my favourite poet…
Fabulous! And we learn everything will be fine.
We do indeed, Angeline! Thank you!