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?