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?