winds esker               
  
                                          
 there was this place that for  two years 
 i  couldn't  go to.  regardless how much 
 discussed  with others,  or  pointed out 
 on maps, i could not  think  of  it when 
 alone.  i  would often travel  past  the 
 fork, where a  right  turn would  surely 
 take me there, but even then,  something 
               kept me away.              
                                          
 when i  finally  got  there,  after some 
     heavy subconscious battle i must     
 assume,  the  place   was  surreal.   an 
 esker,  like  a needle-thin rift out  in 
 the  lake,  but  ten   meters  high  and 
 adorned in  birch, willow, bracken,  and 
               blueberries.               
                                          
 walking  atop  that  spine,  i  came  to 
 notice the view  to  either  side. there 
 should  be  shores,  of  course,  but  i 
 didn't recognize  them.  first off, they 
 were much too  close, as the lake should 
 stretch  for a hundred  meters  more  on 
 both  sides.  but  now  i  felt  i could 
 almost  reach  out  and  touch them. and 
 then, when i realized which shores  they 
           were, i had to stop.           
                                          
 they were  of  the right  lake. but this 
      lake is large, fractured, and       
 bipartite.  like  a pair of lungs carved 
 into the  granite, and with no less than 
   five communities anchored at various   
      points. and so, studying these      
    impossibly close shores, i slowly     
 understood  them as belonging many miles 
                   away.                  
                                          
 i  examined  the  ridge,  the   treeline 
 above.  was  this what you saw opposite, 
 from  those  other  shores?  i  couldn't 
                 remember.                
                                          
 carrying  forward,  on  the very  tip of 
 the  esker,  i found  the ruins  of some 
    old building. there were overgrown    
 marble staircases, stone floors beneath  
 the moss,  and  strange  slabs  inserted 
 into the  slope like  dams  against  the 
              ground itself.              
                                          
 sitting  there,  i could see across  the 
 narrowed lake my  entire path to where i 
 sat: from  the  stairwell of  my  house, 
 through  the old woods behind  the  tile 
      factory, the bridge over route      
 twenty three  and  then  back under  it, 
 through   the  fancy  villas,  over  the 
 fields, and then that right turn  at the 
                   fork.                  
                                          
 and then  the  stairs up on  the  ridge. 
 thinking  back,  this was  probably  it. 
 hidden  in  a grove,  there were  stairs 
 much like  the ones i currently sat  on, 
 old  and  worn  down,  that  lead you up 
 onto  the esker. the point of entry. had 
 i  insted opted  to walk the path at its 
 foot, i'm  sure  my experience  would've 
          been different indeed.          
                                          
  
                                          
 on  the  lake,   there  were  people  in 
 boats. i wondered,  could they  even see 
 me?  if i shouted, would  they  turn  to 
         stare right through me?