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?