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?