Tag Archives: Parker Tettleton

from LEO

I’m not living my life so you can explain me, Leo reads on Leo’s right hand in last night’s dream. Leo goes to the grocery store every day. He steels himself in the aisles—he takes in the misplaced, the overpriced, … Continue reading

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from LEO

Leo’s mother was born on September 23, 1959. Leo doesn’t have an answer for his thumbs: the way they wait at the bus stop curled out—the way he climbed out of her, the way she would’ve said something, maybe, about … Continue reading

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from LEO

The three main activities, Leo overhears, are: hydrating, smiling, & sleeping. Leo wants love—Leo realizes this isn’t in the conversation. Leo dreams of water instead of sports, laughter with overt facial expressions, dreams. Leo wakes up for work wishing he … Continue reading

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What Comes After The End

The first sentence lets you know your life is a toaster oven. The fifth floor fortune cookie’s heart-by-way-of-paper says to make time for avocados in all of your masks—swallow the fat after you’ve chew-chew-chewed it & worn it one last … Continue reading

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Zipper

The first sentence is inside the memory of a lighter—I do not want to remember the Bay Area, the green & blue Chuck Taylor’s, Berkeley, companion panic attacks, BART in general. I do not eat anything that kills. The sound … Continue reading

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You Know What Won’t Make Me Feel Better

In the morning I want to sleep—I kiss whomever my pillow is, I lie on my stomach with my eyes closed & my hands move all over. The closest thing I have to say is the second sentence. The neon … Continue reading

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