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?