Three Fictions
Parker Tettleton


I'm a six without the number. A trash can lid alone is just another one of us. I'm not sure how anything fits into a fridge. Let's be honest about what we don't mean.


You're on the stairs counting. I'm romancing the microwave, too embarrassed to not be. What makes a magnet anything else? I don't believe in hanging twice, ask you why is why not. There are panels beneath your boots. There are your toes, before.

Leg End

We upset blood, hold fingers like there's a meter. Silver is a third of the band on my t-shirt's name. I've pickled in my sleep. The second sentence is I'm not wearing it. Living isn't a vote.