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?