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?