soon to be missing

I saw you the other day,
she says on the phone.
I saw you walking,
I waved, called your name,
but you didn't see me or
hear me. are you okay?
then I saw you in the post
office, your picture
on a poster. not wanted, it said,
below your shadowy face,
your name.
then I poured some
milk into my cereal
this morning,
and there you were again,
your picture, of what
you'll look like twenty years
from now. it said missing,
or soon to be, and a number
to call if seen.
is there something you want
to tell me? even now,
I can hardly hear you.
your voice is soft
and fading, your image
of who you were is slipping.