Drought


Our love came in the absence of rain.
The avocado growers struggled
while we grew with the rising temperature.
92, 97, 113 degrees fahrenheit… Not hot enough.

We hid in dried out pools.
We showered together to save water.
We melted in the dry sun,
but we let it burn baby, burn.

The clouds were missing.
Honey, so was our sanity.
And with sunburns, sweat and bleached hair,
we’d last as long as the California drought.

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Kari-Bitten Lodrup

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Im an 18 year old girl thats lived in Los Angeles her whole life. I write about the life I know and the people I observe. Everything fascinates me and I find the ugliness of my city to be exquisite.
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Drought In Riverbed

Drought In Riverbed short poem

A randon creation convulsed by grief. Death of a pendant was not able to recall the cleavage. Kosher scream, the grandchildren will not know the fakes of reality show, pure as honey, then the scratching starts: look the tiger was