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?