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?