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?