Over the Border- Digital Collage 6" x 4"

I found myself in Veracruz, penniless and heartbroken. When Victor approached me with the business opportunity I dare not refuse. "You understand we want you to be a mule," he said. I had heard stories about those desperate men who shuttled drugs into the United States. "Yes," I replied. "So you understand what is expected of you," he said with an air of disappointment. "Come this way." He led me down a back alley to a small door made of corrugated metal. We passed through it and were greeted by another american and a business associate of Victor's. Victor said, "This is Bernie. He will be your tail." We shook hands, but avoided eye contact. "All right. Let's go." said Victor's associate, leading us to a curtained off corner. He parted the curtain and asked us to undress. We stood there in our underwear when a hand from behind the curtain thrust out the first half of a mangey looking mule costume. "Wait a second," I said turning to Victor. "This isn't what I had in mind." He looked sad, but was all business. "I do not think you have many alternatives." Shamed, I put on the front of the costume while Bernie put on the back half. Then, the two of us were zippered together and saddled with 45 kilos of contraband Chicklets.

We crossed over the Rio Grande a few days later at daybreak.U.S. customers officials paid no attention to the errant donkey coming to shore on U.S. soil. A man named Gregor met us three miles from the river and relieved us of our load. Removing, the donkey head I felt a mixture of relief, exhaustion, and despair, but what stayed with me that day and for many days afterward was the gamey funkiness of that horrible costume.