issue one / serendipity
Strawberries Never Last
Katie Palmer
In Austin, I keep looking
for you—you always did say
old habits die hard. I see
you
in every passerby on the street,
in a run-down dive bar listening
to that Old Dominion song
you love, the one about sunsets
and planes flying away.
Drinking strawberry mojitos,
trying to swallow something sweet
and memorize the taste; nothing
seems to last, and I’m praying
for the off chance
you’re looking for me
in a city of strangers, too.
for you—you always did say
old habits die hard. I see
you
in every passerby on the street,
in a run-down dive bar listening
to that Old Dominion song
you love, the one about sunsets
and planes flying away.
Drinking strawberry mojitos,
trying to swallow something sweet
and memorize the taste; nothing
seems to last, and I’m praying
for the off chance
you’re looking for me
in a city of strangers, too.
Katie Palmer is a poet living in Upstate New York with her two cats, June and Jo. She loves animals, nature, and the sunsets. Her works are forthcoming or published in diphthong lit, Pomegranate Lit, and Tiny Spoon, amongst others.