by Ace Boggess
We stood in line,
noting the band’s name on the marquee.
1980s pop metal—big hair,
catchy songs I recall as poorly as the dream.
There we were like tee-shirted
teens, eager for the doors breaking
open.
We held tickets, skeleton keys.
I haven’t thought of that group in years,
not since cassette tapes & Sony Walkmans.
Saw the performance in ’88.
I wouldn’t pay the price a second
time, but last night was youth
revisited,
a feeling of lightness, burdens eased, &
hope as if the experience were new.
About the Author
Ace Boggess is author of six books of poetry, most recently Escape Envy (Brick Road Poetry Press, 2021). His poems have appeared in Michigan Quarterly Review, River Styx, Harvard Review, and other journals. An ex-con, he lives in Charleston, West Virginia, where he writes and tries to stay out of trouble.
Nebulous 