Not Jonathan Larson.
I know him
He's down the hall
I've see him
When he goes to his own place
He is alone
I know that much
I'm not sure why.
We work in the same building
Though he never talks
Just goes in,
Does his work
And leaves
Back to his apartment
He's only a little older
Maybe thirty-five
I've been in his apartment
When his pipes busted
There were pictures on the walls
Of people,
They are old pictures
From the eighties and early nineties
I asked him who they were
And quietly
Slowly
He told me they were friends
Who died
Years ago
His wife left him
I know that
but I don't know why
Maybe they have something to do with the pictures.
Poor Benny.