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?