The Line

The Line

I got my discharge from Fort Irwin, took a place on the San Diego county line
Felt funny being a civilian again, it'd been some time
My wife had died a year ago, I was still trying to find my way back whole
I went to work for the INS on the line with the California Border Patrol

Bobby Ramirez was a ten-year veteran and we became friends
His family was from Guanajuato, so the job it was different for him
He said, "They risk death in the deserts and the mountains, pay all they got to the smugglers rings
We send 'em home, they come right back again, Carl, hunger is a powerful thing"

Well I was good at doing what I was told, I kept my uniform pressed and clean
At night I chased their shadows through the arroyos and ravines
Drug runners, farmers with their families, young women with little children by their sides
Come night we'd wait out in the canyons, try to keep 'em from crossing the line

Well the first time that I saw her she was in the holding pen
Our eyes met and she looked away then she looked back again
Her hair was black as coal, her eyes reminded me of what I'd lost
She had a young child crying in her arms, I asked, "SeƱora, is there anything I can do?"

There's a bar in Tijuana where me and Bobby drink with the same people we'd sent back the day before
We met there, she said her name was Louisa, she was from Sonora and had just come north
We danced and I held her in my arms, I knew what I would do
She said she had some family in Madera county, if she her child and her younger brother could just get through

At night they come across the levy in the searchlights dusty glow
We'd rush 'em in our Broncos, force 'em back down into the river below
She climbed into my truck, she leaned towards me and we kissed
As we drove her brother's shirt slipped open and I saw the tape across his chest

We were just about on the highway when Bobby's jeep come up in the dust on my right
I pulled over and let my engine run and stepped out into his lights
I felt myself moving, felt my gun resting 'neath my hand
We stood there staring at each other as off through the arroyo she ran

Bobby Ramirez he never said nothing, six months later I left the line
I drifted to the central valley and took what work yeah I could find
At night I searched the local bars and the migrant towns
Looking for my Louisa with the black hair falling down

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