A woman’s purse is a mysterious thing.
A hundred pound bag of magic.
Full of useful unnecessary things.
Gidgets and gadgets and tricks of the female trade.
If you ever need anything in a pinch she’s probably got it.
Just ask, it’s buried in there somewhere.
Then watch in amazement as her arm disappears like Marry Poppins.
Need at tissue?
There’s a pocket pack.
There’s a whole roll.
Wanna read a book?
She has two, take your pick.
Check, check, check, and check.
Two year old receipt with a warranty on it for the blender?
Ball-peen or claw, Phillips-head or flat, they’re probably in there too.
It’s fuckin’ magic I tell ya.
©James Dennis Casey IV