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?