As the car tires traverse the gravel drive, I can see it on the porch,
a black bag, big and wide,
clothes from Holly.
I embrace the joy of digging in and finding new-to-me attire,
just for me, straight from Holly.
Then one day puberty came,
And as the clothes stopped fitting,
I finally realized: Holly and I are different.
She has breasts,
And hips,
And money.
