Dreaming a Flat Bridge Between Juarez and El Paso

Dreaming a Flat Bridge Between Juarez and El Paso


1.
I found this postcard tucked into our digital files
for David Romo's "Ringside Seat to a Revolution."
How charming and idyllic it is,
so much so it drips with the real blood of irony
in comparing to what we have now.
It's true, back in the day,
the bridge between El Paso and Juárez was flat,
and the Rio Bravo (aka, Rio Grande)
was a common resource, certainly not a fenced
and heavily guarded dividing line
between El Norte and El Sur.

Then in the early 60s the Kennedy Administration
brokered the Chamizal Treaty
which diverted the river into a concrete ditch.
It also moved the border at the downtown bridge
a hundred yards or so north,
over which some pendejo engineer designed,
and the feds built, a three story tall bridge.

It's meaning was simple--divide one city from the other.
These decisions, made in DC and DF,
radically altered not only the river,
but also south downtown El Paso,
especially around the Segundo Barrio
and Chihuahuita Barrio.
And over the years since the 60s
the culture and the politics of the two cities
has changed dramatically. It was slow change at first,
but then in the mid-90s to now,
the change became accelerated.

The border on the U.S. side has become a military camp
for a number of federal agencies,
each elbowing more and more space for themselves,
fewer and fewer people from the U.S. go back and forth
to enjoy families and friends and entertainment
to simply enjoy Mexico,
and illegal drugs and immigration have become
essential cash industries for the Mexican economy.

And so how do we reverse this insanity?
How do we make our bridge flat again?

First thought, best thought:
Rewrite the U.S. drug laws;
remove the capitalistic incentive
from the sale of marijuana, heroin and cocaine;
and treat addiction as a sickness, not as a crime.
But you say this to the bureaucrats in D.C.,
they just talk gobbley-gook,
then they turn around and show you their fat asses.

I'm a poet and I should be able to say this better,
but, damnit, as I write this, it's Friday afternoon,
and I'm tired of the insanity I see.

Insanity like a three-story bridge
that should be a flat bridge.

Bobby Byrd August 2009

Thanks to Roberto Camp who a long time ago
explained to me that the building of that monstrosity
of a bridge was a tipping point in the history
of these two sister cities.


2.
I found this postcard tucked into our digital files for David Romo's Ringside Seat to a Revolution. How charming and idyllic it is, so much so it drips with the real blood of irony in comparing to what we have now. It's true, back in the day, the bridge between El Paso and Juárez was flat [*see note], and the Rio Bravo (aka, Rio Grande) was a common resource, certainly not a fenced and heavily guarded dividing line between El Norte and El Sur. Then in the early 60s the Kennedy Administration brokered the Chamizal Treaty which diverted the river into a concrete ditch. It also moved the border at the downtown bridge a hundred yards or so north, over which some pendejo engineer designed, and the feds built, a three story tall bridge. It's meaning was simple--divide one city from the other. These decisions, made in DC and DF, radically altered not only the river, but also south downtown El Paso, especially around the Segundo Barrio and Chihuahuita Barrio. And over the years since the 60s the culture and the politics of the two cities has changed dramatically. It was slow change at first, but then in the mid-90s to now, the change became accelerated. The border on the U.S. side has become a military camp for a number of federal agencies, each elbowing more and more space for themselves, fewer and fewer people from the U.S. go back and forth to enjoy families and friends and entertainment to simply enjoy Mexico, and illegal drugs and immigration have become essential cash industries for the Mexican economy. And so how do we reverse this insanity? How do we make our bridge flat again?

First thought, best thought: Rewrite the U.S. drug laws; remove the capitalistic incentive from the sale of marijuana, heroin and cocaine; and treat addiction as a sickness, not as a crime. But you say this to the bureaucrats in D.C., they just talk gobbley-gook, then they turn around and show you their fat asses. I'm a poet and I should be able to say this better, but, damnit, as I write this, it's Friday afternoon, and I'm tired of the insanity I see.

Insanity like a three-story bridge that should be a flat bridge.

[**NOTE: Thanks to Roberto Camp who a long time ago explained to me that the building of that monstrosity of a bridge was a tipping point in the history of these two sister cities.]

Posted over on Bobby Byrd's site White Panties and Dead Friends
1. Line breaks by Glenn Buttkus, who finds poetry in everything Bobby writes, utters, or thinks.
2. Bobby's prose piece posted over on his site.

****Addendum: My response to this was posted over on Bobby's blog:

Let us all dream of flat bridges, all together,
and to the end of the cartel nightmare.
For as horrendous as it is,
as lethal and destructive as it is,
it too shall pass into the pale pages of the past--
and we will sit on benches as older men,
pushing the bloodshed and drug wars into a numb niche,
and only dream of the laughter, the flowers, the music,
and the joyous throng who will flow
over the flat bridge again.

Glenn