Two Fictions
Parker Tettleton

Unless You Move To Me

Something I want pretends to be a cigarette. It could be beer but it's probably steps. I've been born, left to come back, gone to & away from you. If we were kissing there wouldn't be a washer & dryer in the living room. I've lived in one town three times.


Full Of What I Am Without

I use You. It tries to be a variable. When it's not I am. There's no touching, holding, kissing. It's swallowed something less. I spread your name with bottle caps, end covering my eyelids. Everything is nothing is broken.

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