“Not the Ship of Oblivion” by Dan Grossman

Street musician in Juarez, Chihuahua, Mexico Photo by Dan Grossman

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Not the Ship of Oblivion

“La Nave del Olvido.*” That’s the song the dude
in the black charro sings while strumming his guitar,
standing in the aisle as if mounted on a horse.
Our bus is passing through Juárez, Mexico.

I’m hoping it will soon make it to the border
but the route seems like the least direct line
between points A and B. I’m thinking
how Juárez gets such a bad rap in US media.

But it’s not a sicario boarding at the next stop,
it’s just a couple of beautiful young
nursing students, in their red uniforms.
When the bus starts moving again, the musician

starts into “And I Love Her,” by The Beatles
in perfect English, a perfect rendition.
We get off at the Parque Central near the
Ciudad Juárez cathedral, and he tells me

about his life. “I was deported after living
five years in Utah,” he tells me. “Now I’m
with a tranny. She’s in her 50s but she looks
like she’s 30. She knows how to take care

of herself because she owns a salon.
Anyway, it’s better here. You’re not
always chasing some impossible dream.
I feel like the ship hasn’t yet sailed; sabes?