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