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?