"Octoberesque"

There is no real weather here in San Diego.
Only varying stages of warmth,
perhaps “rain”
that waters the clean-cut lawns of our suburban sprawl
and leaves little kids squealing, clamoring to get away from the wet.
And Santa Anas that rage from the desert,
chapping lips and mussing hair of teenagers
as they walk to school in 54 degree weather in the middle of January,
propelling fire days instead of snow,
masks donned to breathe not coats to keep warm.
So can you blame me
if I’m at once elated and depressed
with endorphin counts falling—dead leaves on the wind—
that it’s the middle of October, and
finally looking like it.