Raining in Summer

I've always lived in Southern California. I've never heard of summer rain. This notion, I have to say, quite honestly, Strikes me as insane.    I might as well speak of fluffy penguins Who live in the Sahara, Or opine on the wit and wisdom of pigs Who wear lipstick and mascara.  Or interview an illustrious duck Who opens his bill to sing, "Won't You Come Home Bill Bailey", and then Composes "The Rite of Spring." I may just as well play mumblety-peg With a hamster wearing braces, Or play high-stakes poker with a wily fox Who deals me eights and aces. Or dine on blue marbles and split-pea soup With a seasoning of Tums, Or perform "Swan Lake' or "Claire de Lune" On just harmonica and drums. And now I'll slide comfortably into my fridge, All wrapped in cellophane, And say from the top shelf, "that's about all I know about summer rain."