the purse

i remember this girl
from years ago, when
i lived in a three
story walk up in
the bronx. emily
was her name. she lived
across the east river
in queens wtih three
other women. but the
things was, that
she left her purse
on the floor. who leaves
a purse? who walks out
the door with keys in
hand, shoes and clothes
on just as she had when
she arrived, but no
purse, and to a woman
her purse is everything.
a woman could survive
an earthquake or a flood
with what lies deep
within that bag. food,
clothing, knives and
forks, mints, a toothbrush,
an extra pair of glasses,
a nail file, a whistle,
makeup, pills, a notepad
with everything on it.
so much, and yet she
left it. so i wrapped
it and took it to the
post office and sent it
back to her. i couldn't
date a woman who leaves
her purse. i just couldn't
and probably still can't.
it doesn't seem right.