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?