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?