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?