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?