San Gabriel Valley Poetry Quarterly

Wanda VanHoy Smith

Wait A Minute

If you don't like southern California weather natives tell you “Wait a minute,”
It's a true rumor that the climate changes radically from minute to minute in the land of endless Summer..
Wear a sun-dress to a rap concert at Hollywood Bowl but also bring a wrap and a blanket.
When the sun goes down the goosebumps rise.
Why do you think Gidget and her surfer pals bring blankets to the beach?
For warmth not for X-rated scenes.
Yesterday, El Ninjo blew so hard it uprooted trees blew shingles off of condos, even smog dissipated.
The wind blew rain clear from Disneyland across Orange county into L.A where there wasn't a cloud in the azure sky.
A recent resident from Chicago asks “Where are those warm winter days I heard about. My feet are freezing.”
I say “Wait a minute.”
Tomorrow the promised land of oranges and avocados may be hot as jalapeños or cold as a divorce.
If the temperament of your man is tempestuous if his temperature is falling below zero and his words and touch are cold if he flirts with the pretty woman in the bar.
Wait a minute.
Don't rave.
When you get him alone in the car.
there could be a heat wave.