Another day of pruning, another fake-out rain. Never halfway to average here in L.A.
Donner Pass is snowed in again. Screen door open to the risk of traffic on the Five.
If the dog doesn’t chase that dove, the cold might scrub summer’s mothy closets.
You should see us in the evenings, in our underwear, swatting at them with Vanity Fair.
By day we’re overwhelmed with lemons, but I’ve had an idea about that.
Put one at the bottom of each spring pot. Call it an acid trip for the roots.
I’m on to something here, I’m finally on to something. Here in never average L.A.

Now it’s nearly New Year’s and I spread some good water news with the east.
She says two thousand miles away:

I’m reading a book on bewilderment…
…lemonade, lemon juice, and meringue…
…Oh, that darn Donner Pass…
…stay away from that place.

Bradley David’s poetry, fiction, and photography appear in Terrain, Allium, Rougarou, Welter, Exacting Clam, Anti-Heroin Chic, and others. His creative nonfiction has been nominated for a Pushcart. He lives in Southern California by way of the rural Great Lakes Midwest. Find him on Twitter @strangecamera and Instagram @mystrangecamera. More work at