you fall in love
so strongly
with booksellers
  and baristas
    and the girl next door
because as someone said
we are creatures of habit,
and the fact that you're able
to see them more than once
  to refresh their own face on your memory

unconsciously blows your ******* heart up.
you see all of these beautiful entities
walking and breathing
and dying and living,
and you fall in love with all of them.
but soon enough,
maybe after three nights of seeing
  them blurry in your eyes,
you forget their faces and what they were wearing.
you forget how they laughed
  or smelled
  or talked about whatever.
but not her.

you don't forget her
with the short
shoulder-length blonde hair,
with the glasses and big smile.
you don't forget
how she said you looked cute
and talked about vonnegut
  and charles bukowsky.
but she probably forgot you.