guess an august

a stranger at the cash machine
imagine no stranger worth that
stagger still and listen
to pockets stuffed with ash

loose with rubber on the road
the dose is a river full of coast
boats impatient to launch
wake gunwales bow stern toss

isotherms

from the rocks
angles that crickets
keep in stock lines
to sign quartz jaded
washed up by slime
big waves the laked
trigonometry accross
and run aground