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?