Remember to Dress in Layered Cliches

I keep the secret hidden for most of the year,

Behind Star Wars t-shirts and scuffed sneakers, 
And a giddy optimism that I will use like a blunt object, 
Or a deflector dish! Yes, let's go with that one.

I wear my true colours in the Fall.

When the leaves are a-twirl in a wind that can't decide if it wants to be warm or cold. 

When the sunshine and the rainclouds wrestle for the same patch of bluest blue sky.

When the green flees the fields where the geese start to gather.

That's when I don my Lulus, head to the nearest cafe with book of Important Essays in hand, 

Declaring to the world with my tall flat white coffee,

Unapproachably oversized dark sunglasses, organic lip stain flavoured with honey from only the most self-righteous of bees,
And wearing a meticulously messy top knot over a perfectly baggy sweater emblazoned with a single, profound directive like "Be" or "Dream" or "Verb"...

This is when I declare that YES, I am a white girl.