Over the Borderline

Sonoran Barbacoa Sizzling peppers send smoke signals Carne asada sears over mesquite A hungry traveler lurks in the brush And dreams of something to eat On the road so long Himself grilled by the sun Nearly out of water And not out to harm anyone As a tendril of smoke fills his nose And a bastard buzzard circles overhead Smells from his youth tickle his soul And coax him back from the dead From menudo to adobo With rice and beans Con mas frutas y dulces He smells it all… it seems He thinks about Durango And cool mountain air And fresh roasted corn At the village town square He wishes he was there Or just up the arroyo Where blazing ranchero music Mixes with the smoke of grilled pollo And so off he goes With his hat in his hand Where he’ll join with those gringos… For his first meal in this land By: Jesse Alberson Tucson, Az

Shadow Rock United Church of Christ - Phoenix, Az       I recently visited a local Phoenix church as part of a fieldwork exercise for my Anthropology class in which we were tasked with observing church rituals, practices, and symbols. I chose a church nearby and found it more interesting than I bargained for. This particular church, Shadow Rock United Church of Christ, is a sanctuary for undocumented immigrants, providing a safe harbor for those in need. With lots of talk by Donald Trump about building a wall along the southern border, a major piece of his presidential bid, its worth noting the dilemma many undocumented immigrants face after being released from ICE custody. Occasionally they're cleared of any wrong doing and need a place to go, lest they be left to wander the streets. Some undocumented immigrants, many I imagine, are being accused of crimes they didn't commit and face extradition before their cases can be heard in a court of law. These immigrants ar...

Christmas Across the Border A Christmas trip to Arizona Laughing and joking our way Across the desert on a bus A happy and joyous affair Would soon turn into a nightmare Tucson lights at night Sinaloa so long ago It seems... But only the day before Our broken navidad dreams A lone toddler’s shoe Sits on the roadside A single sad sole That tells the tale Of a hurried escape Just ahead of the law With sirens screaming And searchlight beams That blind and shatter Our holiday dreams Broken down bus Southbound lanes La migra licking their chops The officer frowns The cruiser slows down And quickly comes to a stop Checking our papers He lets out a sigh His face is blurred Through my only good eye A scar runs down my cheek From hairline to chin The officer thinks I'm a freak I can tell from his ugly grin My wife carries our son Almost the age of three Born with only one arm A...

El Fayuquero A Mexican picker heading south In his overloaded truck and trailer Mattresses and tricycles Microwaves and kitchen tables Check off the list a car battery Couches and jumper cables Un Fayuquero heading home Back to his shop Across the southwest he roams Picking at every stop Scavenging American junk piles Shopping at the thrift stores Combing the swap meet aisles Fighting the picker wars In all the little desert towns Blasting winds and dusty roads Enduring the ugly frowns As he secures his unsteady loads Con cuidado , doing 55 on the freeway Bikes teetering on top of chairs Packed pickups towing other pickups Packed to the gills with household wares Flower adorned crosses stand out In the trucks one flickering headlight But the man knows without a doubt… He’ll be in Nogales by midnight Unlike his amigo Miguel Antonio Pedregon-Baray A fellow fayuquero whose cross is nearby His wreck left goods scattered all over the roadway As he d...

Working the Line (the Mexican) Sitting on a street corner South of the border His house many miles south Looking for something to eat Anything to put in his mouth Gone are the days of trabajo Sweat pouring from his brow From building the supermercado To the days of skinning a cow (the American) Well north of the border An American sits on a bench Unable to pay his child support order His fists beginning to clench Let go from the factory Whose chimneys continue to steam Replaced by cheap labor By those chasing the American dream (the laborer) Knowing they think I come cheap I sit on this corner still resolute Across the border are riches to reap Such are the wages of this dispute (the disillusioned) I traded a bar stool for this old park bench With the flurries of November starting to swirl I can live with my girl if needed in a pinch Consternation abounds in this socialized world My beat up old Ford now transports fifteen illegals Be they...