David Seter

by David Seter

I had a weakness for strawberries
in a cynical age that mocked sweetness.
My friends lit cigarettes and chased
the fireworks of short skirts.
I wandered the lignite dark winter
past her house wanting to be
befriended by fire but ended up
cooling my heels. Yes, she was tart,
and freckled, and just now she triggered
this memory. I carry secrets like these
on long bus rides home, protected
like votives in churches. No, I won’t
tell you her name. Let her spirit evaporate,
like vodka on my tongue, like flame.

Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 17, Issue 1.

David SeterCurrently enrolled in the MA in Humanities Program at Dominican University of California, Dave Seter earned his undergraduate degree in Civil Engineering from Princeton University. He is the recipient of two Pushcart Prize nominations. Born in Chicago, he has lived on both coasts, and currently resides in Sonoma County, California. His poetry chapbook Night Duty was published in 2010 by Main Street Rag.

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