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?