L.A. Apocalypse Cartoon

The heat cooked Thursday to 98 degrees,
a new record for L.A., a city that advertises
its weather to the Midwest and Back East,
while selling China on Hollywood dreams.
Adam tried to talk to his girlfriend again
about moving to where there'll be water
10 years from the day he might propose
a life together. "So, let's go there, and
make plans in one last atmosphere
similar to where we grew up. The temp
of California left long ago for Oregon.
When we die, Malibu will be way up,
closest beachtown to Anchorage."
Candy just got her Japanese tattoo
declaring her faith all be OK, inside
her interior universe, a doomsday
scene on any given day, earthquake
tearing apart the city stone by stone,
ground rising to meet flying rooftops.
Smokes a joint daily to glue it all back.
"I can't relocate like we're refugees,
babe. It's bad mojo. It's giving in.
We must live what we believe,
and it can't be we'll let it be sold
out from under us, for final profits
in banks without tellers or guards."
Adam wanted to say 200 years
is all that history's got left, and
we'll be lucky to be dead, if we can
still die on time 50 years on.
"Eugene will be good for us.
We're a day's drive from friends
who'll stay here with no choices
left but to beg us some day to live
with us, where there's still water."
Candy swore to keep her L.A.
cell phone number always, forever,
as if she once lived in Atlantis.