No Line....But This Poem by Doug Lane

I returned,
after browsing the Barnes & Noble magazine stand
to buy one more thing
from the same clerk
who had just sold me two books
-an Olds and a Neruda-
10 minutes before.
And she, not recognizing me,
asked me
again
if I had a B&N card:

"Yes, I still do.
You see, I used to look like myself.
Now, I look like
every other
middleaged
white guy.
Had you met me
then
you wouldn't have
forgotten me."

Surprisingly
it didn't bother me
to see this
or say it.
What bothered me
was realizing
first thing
this morning
that I have not lived
for years
am not now not living
(If life unshared with loved ones
is not a life.)
and that I am

at this
late
late
juncture
unlikely
ever
to live
again.

And yet
this realization
may be
the real-est thing
about my life
and the closest
I will come
to living.

And no,
there's no line
here,
no saver,
to redeem
what has gone before,
what is going on now,
or what is to come.

No line
but this.