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?