January 16, 2015


During the drought
we don't wash cars,
tasting the dust
in our mouths,
on our skin.
In the fall,
snowbirds arrive,
thinking our water
belongs to them.

We'll stay inside
for another season,
breathing cool air,
sipping drinks
in the afternoon.
We'll repeat rumors
we've heard about rain, 
waiting for dark clouds
to gather, again.