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?