On Wearing A Murse Poem by L MILTON HANKINS

I see the wary, self-satisfied leer as you approach
because I carry on my right shoulder
the expensive leather bag my wife gave me
for Christmas three years ago
when the doctor said "Don't put stuff
in your hip pockets! "
Stuff, it seems, forces one's spine to shift
In ways spines are not supposed to shift.
Your sneer tells me you think it so queer
for a man to carry a purse -
[deep inside you may wish you had one]
My sweet, loving, caring wife has been gone
now for two lonely years,
Only special memories I have remain, like when
I said, "Are you kidding? I can't go around
carrying that thing over my shoulder! "
"I do, " she simply said.
She packed everything I could possibly ever need
wallet, checkbook, toothpicks,
fingernail clippers, pens and pencils,
And proudly she walked beside me
while I learned
to carry my murse
with confidence.
So, when I see you sneer
I say to myself, "What's it to you, jerk! "