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?