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?