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?