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?