August

Reduced to walking catfish—

Men and women lurked streets 
Dreaming about water. Air

Had to be consumed 
In gasps, and rationed—

Even stolen at times 
As foot soles left kisses

On the pavement's dry lips. 
No time to wave words—

The summer's feverish breaths 
Spoke great persuasion

That thieved the cooler shades—
And one could only hope

For their return.

Dale Chou
2003-08-13