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?