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?