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?