Trapped by Commerce The grip of talons steals my breath, but I keep signing my own timesheet. The flapping wings, the touch of air, the change in elevation is like swimming to the top of the Eiffel Tower in one breaststroke. But that doesn't scare me; it's just a tourist experience, a carnival ride. Fresh. Still, I wait for the night bus to carry me home through the city so I can gawk at the skyscrapers lit up like cacti. From one long-held breath, I want your name to be my last word, brother.