Mexicali Stars by David Dowling February 2011

1MEXICALI STARS by David Dowling© February 2011

Were we running from or searching for the illusive, the changing, a cosmic answer? Youth and it’s passions cause large ideas that can co-exist in a small narrow world. Chances that are received and in some cases grabbed in mid-air. The need to experience what cannot be seen only dreamed and smelled and listened to….deep in the night, far from home, sweat in the air, wind through your hair. Through the mysteriousness of a very black night in a southern desert on a strange highway along an abandoned sea with ancient shorelines passing broken buildings over smashed dates from their fallen trees along seldom used railroad tracks canals of sweet water smelling dead fish, coyote eyes stare bright to the right, discarded cans, hitchhikers to everywhere and nowhere, aliens from below, police from above, hot wind pushes us along, tumbleweeds racing past across and over, Chinese tacos for breakfast. Indio, Mecca, Niland, North Shore, Brawley, Westmoreland, Calexico, over the rumbling earth through Ocotillo red toward the destination, ever closer and blanketed by the Mexicali Stars.

Three hours ago there was television, people, many cars, talk, answers, questions, idle time, boredom. Now there is few people, neon in the darkness, cargo trucks, bars and borders. Always hot in the summer, perspiration at midnight, sleep, beer, scared. Keep moving moderately fast never slow… wagons ,carts, horses, neon cars, bicycles, no sleep, through border no questions, red light green light, o no wrong one. Below border police stopped, questions begin, pay now or wait for later. Pay now leave quickly but slowly. Breathe… tortillas, beer, south 3 more hours, focus, pass cargo trucks that pass us. Truck stops in middle of road, no lights no flares, driver sleeps underneath. Good luck. Ancient salt flats, camels, rabbits, date palms, fertile fields, black dark deathly, hot and empty. Pit stop side of road, sewage smell, no sound from car approaching, way off, passing… whoosh, silence again. Two more hours pass. Sliver of sunrise on horizon, craggy mountains on our right, ocean water to our left, reflections, slight breeze from Cortez cools air. No cars, people, buildings for last hour, sign ahead, sun higher, road left, jet contrail above, very fast car passes. San Felipe ahead, Shrimp Man shack, buy land, build house, fish, sleep, live and die, dirt airstrip, town. Mexicali Stars left behind.

Highway stops at ocean, small town, many people, little electricity daytime only, shrimp boats, lighthouse, breakwater, tide out way out, dogs, street carts with tacos de pescado, sun up, hot returns, no relief, humid, no breeze, desert expatriates, sand buggies shrimp, Radio Venezuela, bars, thirsty, no English spoken here, Club Miramar, American girls, convertible from Berkeley over mountains from Ensenada. Why? Beer, food, beer…answer. Smile Drugs and Men serious…. Beach, sleep, search, sleep, swim. Saw girls next day, successful in their search. Six hours from San Bernardino to San Felipe Baja, midnight to 6AM, early 1970’s, under the attentive eyes of the Mexicali Stars.