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?