The Purse
An inventory of my purse
would probably reveal
an odd accumulation that
you wouldn’t want to steal.
There’s grocery lists and dried up pens
and faded old receipts.
There isn’t even anything
in there that’s good to eat.
Dead batteries, torn envelopes
with scribbles in the corners.
It’s like a pocket version of
confessions of a hoarder.
And don’t forget the loose breath mints
in fuzzy, linty coats,
and programs for special events
that happened months ago.
Money? There may be a few loose
pennies in the lining
but nothing that would justify
the plotting or designing
required for pilfering my purse,
it’s actually quite huge.
To sneak away with it, unseen,
would really be a coup.
Cards I carry in my pocket,
I rarely carry cash.
William Shakespeare had it right,
‘who steals my purse, steals trash.’
#340
Commentary on Spam – Seriously?
“Greatest fighter toasts ought to entertain on your couples.”
Thank you, my couples do not need anyone to entertain on them, certainly not fighters, great or otherwise.
I have pondered this for a long time and I can only conclude that these spam comments are the detritus generated by the proverbial ‘infinite number of monkeys sitting at an infinite number of typewriters’ before they managed to type out the complete works of Shakespeare.
Greatest fighter toasts? Seriously?