Others have relationships.
I have infatuations.

Pale-skinned blonds with
kind faces attract me.

Joan was one of these.

I went after her
and found she was as nice as she looked.

But
someone else
had gotten there first.

It depressed me.

I refused to forget about
her.

I walked past her apartment door
hoping she'd come out.

The door had a number 13 on it.
I knew she was
behind it...doing things.
Living.

She never came out.

I saw her once in the laundry room.
She was with her boyfriend
but she said "hi" to me.

I later found out she'd
gotten married and had two kids.

Why'd she have to go
and do a thing
like that?