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?