When It Rains

When it rains in Los Angeles,
we are all cats.
The slightest sprinkle
and we hiss.  Water which
would not merit an
umbrella keeps us indoors,
yowling at the liquid
which must be acid
falling from the sky.
We drive 5mph.  It
is a good day today
to be a duck.
Hiss.

-my old poetry found in a forgotten notebook