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?