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?