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?