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?