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?