Three Poems

by Ace Boggess



Free Man Dreams of a Heist

 

What were we stealing, &

why was I left outside

guarding a car the impossible

silver of a spaceship with wheels?

When the cop came, I swore

it wasn’t mine. We talked

about its magnificence, how

it seemed like a beautiful myth:

there & not there, double-parked &

between the lines.

I didn’t get arrested, cuffed,

or end up back in jail.

 

Next thing, I was left again

to watch over the loot:

a warehouse full of classic

albums, old vinyl. Folks came in,

browsed as if at the record store

where I worked in 1994.

I twitched & stammered,

looked away, felt as if being

picked apart by crabs.

 

I never saw the mastermind

who must have been me

in my Hyde body, fully self-

aware of whatever crime

I committed for love

of art, music, & the thrill

of getting away with it,

as I did when my alarm went off.

Free Man Watches a Film About a Free Man

                                              Revanche (2008)

 

 

The guy’s Austrian, out of jail &

making bad decisions.

 

Crime, circumstance, misfortune—

these haunt him

 

the way love’s ghost must hunt,

the way the shadow-hand of death

 

will flip him off. I’m there

with him, botching a robbery,

 

blundering into a clueless cop

who shoots first & never asks.

 

What revenge would I expect

for tragedy brought on

 

by a flaw in my character

between good nature & desperation?

 

The free man (free man #2),

rather than murdering,

 

fathers a child

the officer will call his,

 

never learning

the songs he sings are shallow.

Free Man with Cigarette

 

He sits on a stone patio bench

as if carved there, part of it.

 

The sun browns one side of his face

like a leather patch covering an eye.

 

An ant crawls onto his arm.

Leave me alone, he says,

 

meaning the ant but also the past

he thinks of in these pauses

 

from his day. He breathes fire

in the wrong direction to call himself

 

a dragon. He exhales

a violent, bloody history he can’t erase.

 

Half a dozen deer walk by

ten feet away. They don’t fear him.

 

He’s lost in thought, hypnotized

by the orange dot of his cigarette.

 

Freedom is a busy prison

he escapes for minutes at a time.




BIO: Ace Boggess is author of seven books of poetry, most recently My Pandemic / Gratitude List (Mōtus Audāx Press, 2025) and Escape Envy (Brick Road Poetry Press, 2021) . His writing has appeared in Indiana Review, Michigan Quarterly Review, Notre Dame Review, Hanging Loose, and other journals. An ex-con, he lives in Charleston, West Virginia, where he writes, watches Criterion films, and tries to stay out of trouble. His forthcoming books include the poetry collection Tell Us How to Live from Fernwood Press and his first short-story collection, Always One Mistake, from Running Wild Press.

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