She zoomed onto my street,
that little red convertible careening
around curves before screeching
to a stop, taking up two
parking spaces. One long leg at a time
stepped out, magenta stilettoes
clicking across the pavement as she
sashayed up my front steps,
all black leather and big hair,
barging in my front door.
Long, red fingernails lowered
her sunglasses as she stood,
hands on hips, waiting
to be acknowledged.
I leapt off the couch, almost
tripping over the hem
of my pajamas, smiling,
arms open for her embrace. “Hello,
Sugar,” her smoky voice drawled.
“Hello, Confidence!” I hollered,
“welcome home, sister!”