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?