Her name is Lucy
and she lives downstairs.
No dog, I don’t think,
but a husband.

And her friend –
who is my friend –
called me last night
to hang out but
I couldn’t because
life is for living so
I already had plans.

But I ran into Lucy
in the elevator this morning
and she said, “Don’t I know you?”
and I smiled, said “Kind of.”

Turns out my friend
who is her friend
came over last night
and called to invite me
because I live upstairs.

I’m going to fall in love
in that elevator one of
these days if it is the
last thing that I do.


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