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?