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?