Drought Conditions

I remember a time

when it used to rain.

When ash-shaded skies would

sob sheets of tears on us.

We'd trade song titles and

take careful sips of tea.

And I'd lay kisses

on your lips as

we sat under the downpour.

These days, our favorite lake dried up and

I've traded my oolong for whiskey

and the California sun bakes the thirsty ground

with a quiet determination.

Choked, dusty, dry,

everything painted in shades of brown

and sand and dead leaf.

I remember when it used to rain.

Now, I'm left wondering if your eyes

have dried up like mine.