the girl in the front row

i fell in love
with the girl in the front row.
the smart girl
with dark
hair. where was she from?
Europe we guessed.
a hint of French in her voice.
she was different, so neat
and nice,
so polite. she wasn't like
the other girls.
she knew who she was,
there was no
confusion about this
world we were growing
into, this life.
i would write her name
on a piece of paper.
over and over again,
next to mine.
i imagined how perfect life
would be together
if i was hers,
and she was mine.