JOHN DORROH _______________________________ Carlsbad After Dark I remember how the air smelled like warm guano before the bats swarmed out of the cave at Carlsbad. How they spiraled up toward a full orange moon. How the park ranger joked about rattlesnakes eating a family’s chihuahua while they crooked their necks toward the purple sky. I remember looking at my wristwatch and the itching sensation on the back of my legs. How I was worried about desert fleas. I don’t remember where we parked. I remember how the air-conditioned air chilled our faces. How the ice machine spat out perfectly square cubes. How we smelled chlorine from the pool. I remember the bite of white onions on our fast-food hamburgers and how the salt on the French fries made our tongues swell like sea cucumbers. I remember how we slept like bats in a cave. How no one snored. But I don’t remember the drive back home.
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