The concrete slab of our front porch
Became a runway for me to strut new
Summer hand-me-down fashions.
A black garbage bag was my wardrobe,
Providing a bigger bounty of outfits
Than the clearance rack at K-Mart.
This was the largest collection of clothes
Destined for my body, bigger than the selection
My mother stashed on layaway for my birthday.
I cycled through constant costume changes,
Parading across the gray stage like a model,
Displaying new designs by brand names.
This was my New York Fashion Week,
An opportunity to embody new identities
By incarnating them for the public.
My neighbors clapped from their garages
As I rocked the retro sun-bleached Phillies
Championship t-shit for the first time.
July sunshine glinted off car windshields
Like a collection of flashing camera bulbs.
Every piece of fabric became new
When I debuted it for the world
On the catwalk in my front yard.
I celebrated my success with friends
By wearing a Power Rangers t-shirt
And running through sprinklers,
As our parents became backyard paparazzi,
Immortalizing the moment on disposable cameras.