It’s Raining In L.A.

A time when people of different races, religions, and ethnicities are linked together by deep waters flowing through city streets.

A time when all toxins are flushed from the sky and flood gutters, make fearless drivers fiercer, cause meek drivers to crawl into their turtle shells of barely crawling along.

It’s raining in L.A.

A time when we shed our ghosts, transform those disparate and desperate skins into flotation devices of hope ferrying us from Hollywood to Inglewood, Boyle Heights to Malibu.

For the price of a well-sung song, crows become the Uber of the air, taxi us high above crosstown traffic.

Kids giddy with puddle-jumping joy, don’t bother wiping delighted smiles from their faces, and why should they?

Life here can be sweet. But we’re lucky if it rains once in the lifetime of a honeybee.