across the street the old librarian
recognized me
and so stopped to pass a bit of time
only he didn’t look like
the writer but instead looked like me
and how he didn’t say i looked like him
and he said/ yes many years ago something
like this had happened to him in buenos aires
only the i there was older while the i here
was younger and now the i know no longer
remembers which i that writes/reads
and the i that wanders
and so i bade him a good day
that this happened on a sunny ordinary day
sacramento ca tho i don’t know what i
is now writing this page
