| THE
FUGITIVE
B.E. Stock
Before he could be arrested for murder and robbery
The man had commenced a completely different life
In another city, working in a frame shop, living
Above a store. He told a story that his wife and child
Had died in a blaze, and everyone was drawn
To his quiet sweetness. Eventually the waitress in the diner
Fell in love with him, and they married and had two little girls,
And bought a prefab house in a new development
On the edge of town. He joined the bowling club, and worked
For the gym, and sold the most raffle tickets at the church
fair
Twice a year. By the time they found him, he had stopped looking
In the mirror and remembering the nightmare of that night,
The gun, the blood, the bag full of cash, the dash to the car,
The long bus ride. He helped out a new man in town,
A traveling salesman from his native city, and when
The salesman was home they would go for a drink,
And one day the salesman asked where he came from
And on hearing the answer gazed at him with a troubled frown
Paid his bill and ambled off to the men’s room.
Later he came to the house with the cops and said, “Carl,”
Which was not his name any more, and the fugitive stood there
Shocked and pale, and they took him away.
He could have been safe if he had not forgotten,
If he had not wanted a friend, or missed his native city,
Or become so totally harmless and trusting that even the police
Conducted him gently, and the story in the local paper
Depicted him as the victim of some unforeseen catastrophe.
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