I got my discharge from Fort Irwin. Took a place on the San Diego county line. Felt funny bein' a civilian again. It'd be some time. My wife had died a year ago. I was still tryin' to find my way back whole. Went to work for the INS on the line. With the California border patrol. Bobby Ramirez was a ten year veteran. 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 mountains. Pay all they got to the smugglers rings. We send 'em home and they come right back again. Carl hunger is a powerful thing.". Well I was good at doin' what I was to. l'd Kept my uniform pressed and clean. At night I chased their shadows. Thru 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. And try to keep 'em from crossin' the line. Well the first time that I saw her. She was in the holdin' 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 cryin' in her arms. I asked "Senora is there anything I can do?". There's a bar in Tijuana. Where me and Bobby drink alongside. The same people we'd sent back the day before. She said her name was Louisa. She was from Sonora and had just come north. We danced and I held her in my arms. And I knew what I would do. She said she had some family in Madera county. If she her child and younger brother could just get thru. At night they come across the levee. In the searchlight's dusty glow. We'd rush 'em in our Broncos. Force 'em back down into the river below. She climbed into my truck. She leaned toward 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 movin'. My gun restin' 'neath my hand. We stood there starin' at each other. As off thru the arroyo she ran. Bobby Ramirez he never said nothin'. 6 months later I left the line. I drifted to the central valley. And took what work I could find. At night I searched the local bars. And the migrant towns. Lookin' for my Louisa. With the black hair fallin' down.