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?