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?