Eagle Pass

The eagles have long left, scattered over miles; empty plastic bottle, condoms and diapers. Here under a burning sun human traffickers do not imply a rush-hour. Death is imported, life degraded. They come from all over the world, mostly men of military age, and no one asks why? Whole families come, they are bussed away at night, to be forgotten amidst more teeming masses. An old man rides his bike, grins, waving a hand at a gaggle of press and photographers. There are still no eagles.