March Madness

it’s raining, it’s pouring, the old man is snoring

all of the above is true

5 a.m. on a saturday.

we have been warned about a flood

which is okay by me,

best-laid plans, well, you know.

i like living where the seasons change

worn cliché newly resonant to me, past winner of the miss california drought pageant. i toss my tiara to the jet stream that keeps me

stuck inside, on my ass, deliciously desperate,

building to inevitable spring.