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?