To Walk

   For this lake, there’s not a lot to be said. Large and belly up, there are fish corpses today. They rock gently an arm’s length from where the brackish water runs aground. Failed reeds obscure the edge. Mist obscures the reach.
   Beside the water, the road is only hard in summer. In winter, as now, the trenches dug out by scrambling trucks end in thick yellow water best avoided. I keep on. At the end of this trudge is small collection of shanty stores and a restaurant. Present, theoretically, for the hypothesized return of the construction crews, who will, it has been supposed, rebegin the building of the buildings I walk beside, and possibly reclaim more of the water too. Fantasy billboards wall off the site, but the shells that will be buildings reach high. Gaping holes for windows. Some floors entirely empty. One building, little more than foundations and a scaffolding sketch of ten stories, has long threatened simply to fall over. If it did, it would have to fall across the road into the water. The site itself is too jam-packed to let it fall inside.
   My home.