Time Travel Log
By Emmitt Barnes

 

Found in the shower

 

7/21/07: to freezing waterfalls in arizona, the summer i met my first love, plunging in, shocked alive by the deep pool i jumped into from the cliff

 

12/30/22: brushing off sand under my leg hair and salt off my face. it was that fateful day with a young girl, may she rest in peace. the foot sprayer cleans my sandals as she answers the phone.

 

7/4/9: sizzling franks on the grill in grandmother's rose garden, a tiny gentle elephant showers me with its trunk. the fireworks can’t start soon enough.

 

8/22/03: destroying an inflatable pool with mischief, eyes sore from laughing at dad. rush plays from the cassette player. the parachute mom bought from army surplus is full of holes, but it still puffs up like a mushroom as it shades us.

 

6/18/12: full of teen angst, relaxed and solemn, feeling a new darkness come over me in a rich friend's hot tub. some people i don’t like will join me very soon. they probably don’t like me either.

 

4/19/25: cloaked in white sheen, jasmine in the steam welcomes me home, i hear my husband's car locking downstairs. i gotta try all the settings on this new showerhead, make the most out of this shitty apartment.

 

 

Emmitt Barnes is a teacher, writer, and artist from Southern California.