just outside of nampa on some windswept route. search-
ing for a grave marker in a dusty corn field. then the time
machine starts. i’m a young’un again. in a blighted garden
with my great great granddad. i was this little sumbitch,
eating all the sweet peas. shooting my slingshot at every
aeroplane up high. saw a fatal car wreck. a totaled model t.
found these boys drinking warm beer in a warm shed.
stoned. luke the drifter sang til the radio said pearl harbor.
a cutthroat god sent fellas like ross to foxholes. from tater
farms to type 97s. things got so bad. even the wurlitzers
went away, lost to antiquarians. and before you can say
knife, i’m back. felt like eternity. still can’t find that plot
for the life of me. it’s getting dark. better start west on 84.
might make it by morning. hobbling on that donut spare.

Nicholas Barnes earned a Bachelor of Arts in English at Southern Oregon University. He is currently working as an editor in Portland. His poems have appeared in over fifty publications including trampset, NonBinary Review, and Eclectica Magazine.