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?