One Poem/One Fiction
Parker Tettleton

Orange Cashew Rice

It's the next & thin.
I answer a non-girlfriend,
on lack of period. I've written
you two Septembers since
plus: I'm not in Memphis
really isn't it.

It Doesn't Matter If It Works Out

She mispronounces cupcakes. I leave things about you. Let's remember slowly. I have to get to a point of getting to a point. Bird shit's on a window when anyone walks in. It's forty three minutes past overtime, just Sportscenter & some waiting to be id'd kid. I'm where I don't call home; for the third time in seven years, I forgive me.