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?