Sweet Cali
You're either wet or you're dry
Flooded or on fire
Sunny with clouds or without
Rainy in crazy granny-square patches
that exist only in 30 mile increments as I drive
You're either chilly or sweltering
Except at your edges
Which lack proper circulation
To keep them at the cozy temperatures
that allow you to grow gods-know-what year round
You're either lush or barren
Full or empty
Green or golden as stated
Grasses swaying in the constant high winds
that blow regardless of whether there are leaves to fall
You're either growing or dying
People file in or out
Cities boom or bust
As you lure more in with promises of hopes and dreams
that your fickle, flippant nature can only half grant
You're either where I was born or where I will die
You're halfway there
The rest depends really
On whether you can win me over despite the fact
that your lightning has no thunder to hold me down