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?