Friday, October 10, 2008

From Nogales to the Carcel

So we're driving along near Nogales, me wanting to write a country song about it but without a guitar and without a real voice so I just hum to my dog who is sitting on my lap when we come suddenly to a border check point. Soldiers and German Shepards, nosing the front bumpers of big rigs and cars. We suddenly remember last year a neighbor gave us a little pot to take with us to Burning Man. We stored it in the aluminum roller up in our rig cupboard and forgot about it. We sat in the check point line, watching the dogs and the soldiers wondering if the dogs would know. They did nose around but let us pass through. We breathed a senior sigh or relief.
We left Annie Bones in day care, retraced our steps to explore Tubac back the way we'd come, past the check point when we remembered, again, the illicit drugs languishing in the Reynolds Wrap in our rig. We pulled over in the desert, ready to bury the baggie when we saw the cute little glass pipe our neighbors had included with the gift. It glinted, unused in the southern Arizona sun. We couldn't just leave this in a dusty hole. We drove back to a room we'd gotten for the night and hid the package in Annie's satchel. Now, in the early morning it's lying on the desk. We're beginning to feel just a little what the fleeing felon feels, out in the desert one step ahead of the law.