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!”