L.A. rain 
  
L.A. in the rain -
Wait for me here,
the streets' rush
slowed to a crawl,
diamond-specked drizzle
trapped in the amber of streetlights,
drenched figures
in makeshift attire,
adapt in the face
of their novel experience.
  
Her northern sisters
laugh at her panic,
envy the rush of
forty days' and nights' frenzy
consumed in a day,
so undisciplined,
so much like her,
as nature,
carefully bounded,
unfurls in brief chaos.
  
Bright waterfalls
the colors of concrete and earth,
rivers bounded by curbs,
buildings weep their bleached dust,
reflections run
in the unstopped passion
of hillsides' gorged torrents,
tousled palm trees bow to torn gray,
the seasonal curtain
drawn by her estranged ocean.
  
  
 Jon Bohrn (2000)

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