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?