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?