The Golden State is flushed with rain.
The Homeless there must move again.
The riverbanks where they once hid
Into the rapids now have slid.
Wrapped in tarps, a sad memento
On the streets of Sacramento.
The rushing water doesn’t care
About the homeless anywhere.
And people, like the H2O,
Turn their backs and let them go.
Perhaps another drought will teach
Them more compassion in Long Beach. 
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