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?