It’s Tuesday and I’m coughing walking
past the gas station on Kickapoo
and I go in for no real reason
just to stand there a second and look at things
the floor’s a little sticky by the fridge
and there’s an Arizona iced tea
wedged behind a row of Dr Peppers
80 cents still 80 cents
and I laugh which turns into coughing
so the guy at the counter looks over
not exactly annoyed just waiting
I think about saying something but don’t
I’m already in Andrew’s Park in Norman
when the library lights stayed on late
and the hill behind it felt like the beginning
grass that never really grew right
patchy and bright in places and I used to
sit up there unwrapping a KitKat soft at the edges
chocolate on my thumb watching people
cross the street
the park kept going past
where I could see which seemed fair
now I’m holding this can
cold enough to ache a little
and I don’t remember when things
stopped being that large
I pay and the guy says “you good?”
I nod
outside the light hits everything at once
cars, the sidewalk, my hands
I open the can it tastes the same
too sweet, almost
for a second
the hill is right there again
just past the road
and then it isn’t
and I’m coughing
in the parking lot
thinking
good lord
how are we still living like this
Paul Potts is a poet from Oklahoma, U.S. He began writing poetry in September of 2024, after recommendation from a teacher. You can find his poetry in Frontier Poetry, Posit Journal, The Louisville Review, and Nova Literary-Arts Magazine. He was a finalist for the inaugural Rowayat Poetry Prize, winner of the The Howl’s 2026 Poetry Prize, and finalist for the Adelphi University Poetry Prize. Outside of writing, he enjoys playing jazz on both the drums and vibraphone.