Going Out

by Sally Cragin

Blue and white floral purse

the things they carried

Aquanet hand-maidens
always in pairs,
fishnets, Doc Martens
Mascara’d black stares
smoking in tandem,
sauntering downstairs

Boys give them a glance
but they’re slightly shit-faced
(a bottle of Jack in that purse –
next to Mace)

Oh, those purses – so stylish
from skinned vinyl leopards
or dragon-skin sacks stitched
out of Auntie’s old lace

Or sturdy old canvas,
from Dad’s time in the Army
bulging with tools,
for any occasion
cigarettes, lighters,
lipgloss, and tampons.

Butane-fueled curling iron –
Can of hairspray, and condoms
Lollypops, and breathmints
broken eyelashes curler

Cough drops and Motrin
All meant to be shared
And when the band begins
Those bags, so prepared

For any conclusion, this
evening might bring.
They’re flung in a heap
A veritable fairies’ ring
Right in front of the stage
Where they’re safe, and

observed. And are danced
around like it’s a bonfire
– absurd, but that’s the
image that one of those
laughing girls conjured

Category: Featured, Poetry