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?