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?