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?