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?