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?